#forced cauterization
Text
D.E.A.N | Chapter 21 - Race
Masterlist and overall summary of the whole novel is here. | Prompt on trope-appreciation-tuesdays that inspired this is here. | @whumptober-archive
Fandom : Original Work
(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)
AO3
A/N 16/11/23: Anyway, out of concern for people who can't stomach medical procedures, especially ones that are so gory and bloody, you can skip the rest of the chapter to the bottom notes, like the previous chapter.
Wordcount: ± 4665
TW: Graphic Depiction of Medical Procedure, Blood and Gore, Graphic Depiction of Suicide Attempt Aftermath, Weapon, Knife, Fire, Cauterization
There is a very small window of time before their charge’s injury is going to kill him, and Mark and the others have to move fast before it’s too late.
Whumptober 2022 Tropes:
Day 5 — Every Whumpee’s Needs | Blood Loss
Day 7 — The Way You Shake and Shiver | Shaking Hands + Silent Panic Attack
Day 7 Alt. — Tears
Day 8 — Everything Hurts and I’m Dying | Stomach Pain
Day 8 Alt. — Whimpering
Day 11— “911, What’s Your Emergency?” | Sloppy Bandages
Day 12 Alt. — Adrenaline Crash
Day 14 — Die A Hero or Live Long Enough to Become a Villain | Desperate Measures
Day 19 — Enough Is Enough | Knees Buckling
Day 24 — Fight, Flight or Freeze | Blood Covered Hands
Day 26 Alt. — Ringing Ears
Day 27 — Pushed to the Limit | Muffled Screams
Day 29 Alt. — Emergency Blanket
-----
Marcus bodily slams into the med bay door with his back, thundering heartbeat and sense of urgency giving him unprecedented strength. The sound is loud, but he supposes with everything happening, no one really cares enough to be irritated or inclined to scold him.
Angie is walking behind him, and as he turns slightly to the left, she immediately swoops in with body slightly turned to the side so she can enter the doorway alongside Mark. She immediately goes to the corner of the room where a cart full of their medical supplies is located.
Her steps and gait are sure without being forceful, unlike Mark who, besides carrying Nick, is blundering through everything loudly and forcefully. If he isn’t so focused on carrying Nick and looking at his face, he would probably ponder the fact that Angie used to be EMS before going to police academy, which is why her moves and footing are firm and measured without sacrificing speed.
She opens the drawer quickly, throwing over her shoulder, "Lay him down on the bed," then she quickly turns to Mark, "don't put his legs higher than his body."
Mark dutifully follows her instruction and walks to the bed quickly, depositing Nikolai carefully then holds the back of black-haired head to let it down gently.
Nick blinks up groggily and squeezes his eyes towards the neon light. On the other side, the other agents file in gravely and quickly. Their eyes are wide and scared, almost. Mark only throws a millisecond look at them before looking down at Nick again.
His hands go towards Nick's wound with knife still protruding from it, fingers going to the part where the fabric is torn, gingerly putting his two index fingers on both sides of the opening.
"Don't touch the wound!"
Mark whips his head towards Angie who is still quickly rummaging through the cart.
"Come here," she then calls to him, hand holding a bottle of disinfectant liquid.
Marcus walks to her quickly, giving out his hands as Angie presses the pump of the bottle and it squirts the transparent liquid onto his palms. He immediately rubs it all over his palms just as Angie squirts some onto her own hands and rubbing it in.
He walks back to Nick, still with others just standing around, not knowing what to do.
He supposes, just like Anderson who is still miles more skilled than any of them with his expertise in cybersecurity and system penetration, Angie is more skilled than any of them in emergency first aid despite their standard intermediate first aid training. It's no wonder she moves quickly and fluidly when it comes to what to do now.
"Did any of you call Doctor Lowe?" she asks with irritated voice when she sees them all crowding the room while looking like deer in headlight.
Luke, who is unknowingly outside all this time, immediately steps in while jogging, saying, "Yes, yes, I did. I don't know how long he will arrive. He just said to us to make sure he breathes normally and put pressure on the wound."
"No shit," she mumbles to no one in particular, hands full with gauze and bottles and—
He doesn't know. He can't think. He is just going to trust her to direct him.
"Rip his clothes," she firmly tells him as she approaches the bed.
He hooks his now disinfected index fingers again to the ripped part of Nick's shirt and puts all of his strength to rip it even more, the sound loud and grounding to his scrambling mind. Unfortunately, the sleeves of the shirt prevent the clothes from being ripped completely from Nick's body, but at least they have enough area to work with the wound.
Nick's hand shakily rises up to touch his forearm, pushing gently.
"Just.... just—" he whispers, eyes squeezed again with tears falling to his temples, "...let me go."
He then stares at Mark with a surprisingly firm and steady gaze, even if the eyes look pleading and devastated.
"No," Mark quickly says, "I'm not fucking doing that."
Nick chokes out a sob then turns back to look at the light above him. His face is paler now.
Angie plops the stuff she is carrying to the small space next to Nick's arm on the bed. "We're gonna help you, okay, honey?" she says to Nick with an uncharacteristically motherly and personal voice.
"No," Nick whispers again, "no, please."
Angie looks at Nick's face with her own sad eyes, saying, "We're really sorry we didn't do our job well. But give us a chance to do better. Don't give up yet."
She then pulls the gauze from the pile she just took, not caring about how much she grabs, then puts it around the knife to push still at Nick's thin abdomen.
Nick whimpers and squeezes his eyes again.
"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry," she says again to Nick as he looks visibly more in pain at the pressure.
"What... what do we do?" Mark hears Don's shaky voice.
Mark is about to scream at him to get out, but Angie beats him to it.
"Get the fuck out of here," she hisses without looking up, " you too, Anna. He definitely doesn't want you both here."
Angry looks pass through their faces momentarily, before changing back into regretful faces. They probably realize they don't deserve to be personally offended as they're being singled out. Eventually, they walk backwards towards the door then turn around to walk out as they throw another pained look at Nick.
"All of you, stop blocking the door! Stand somewhere else!"
The remaining agents then hurriedly walk to the walls and the corners of the room at Angie's command where they're not crowding Mark and Angie.
"What do I do?" Mark now asks urgently at her.
Angie lets go of her hold against the gauze to grab the bottle of disinfectant she grabbed, tilting her chin towards the area. Mark just takes it to mean that he should replace her hands for putting pressure on the wound while Angie is busy with the bottle.
She presses the disinfectant pump, smearing blood onto it, to squirt quite a lot of the liquid into a new layer of gauze. She then pulls Mark's hands away slightly so that the gauze already there spread out from the protruding knife. She puts the new disinfected gauze closer to the wound opening inside the circle of gauze she placed previously.
"Help me hold the gauze around it," she points around the disinfected gauze she is currently pushing.
Nick whimpers again, louder this time with gritted teeth.
"Get a fabric, give him something to bite."
Mark just whips his head around, panic filling his mind when he can't find anything to use.
"Just get more gauze," she hisses irritably at him.
He pulls up his arm, which is then immediately replaced by Angie's so that she fully pushes the gauzes by herself. Mark then walks to the cart, opening the drawers urgently while trying to ignore the blood on his fingers. He finds more gauze and grabs only the corner so that there is non-bloody part Nick can bite.
"Here," he says to Nick. Nick responds by opening his eyes and turning his head slightly to face him, parting his lips only very slightly.
That's good. That's really good. He seems like he is starting to let them help him.
Mark puts the fabric between Nick's teeth, then he bites down, his lips slightly trembling.
Angie's left fingers are still in the form of circle around the knife while pushing down on the first layer of crumpled gauze to put pressure. As Mark watches on, Angie starts to pull away her right hand while still gripping the second layer of gauze with disinfectant in it.
When Angie starts to rub the wound opening quite close to the knife with the soaked gauze, Nick immediately squeezes his eyes again with a surprisingly loud scream and back arching from the bed.
Angie automatically flings one forearm towards Nick's chest to push him down, while Mark instinctively grabs his knees and pushes down at them too.
"No, no, don't move, the knife is still there," she tells him with steady voice and gaze.
She tsks worriedly then looks up at the other agents around the room. Her gaze immediately falls on Lena.
"Lena!"
The aforementioned agent looks up to Angie's face.
"Come here, calm him down," Angie says to them, "he's most comfortable with you." She then throws a look to her left where Mark is standing while she's still holding down the gauze around the knife. "Aside, from you, I guess."
Lena walks unsurely, probably not confident that they're not going to make things worse.
"Come here!" Angie calls out more, and Lena immediately strides towards the bed to the top of Nick's head.
Lena puts their arms gently to the bed with palms touching and slightly squeezing Nick's shoulders. They murmur things softly to Nick, something along the lines of, it's okay, everything's gonna be okay, yeah? Just hold on. They then reach an arm towards Nick's on the bed, but jerkily stops to look at Angie.
"Can I hold his hand?"
Angie throws a slight look at Lena then nods. "Probably a good idea to make sure his hands don't touch the knife."
Lena quickly reaches out to Nick's arms and holds the palms, pulling them up so that they bend at the elbows, while Lena's own elbows are pressed on the side of the pillow to support their leaning body. They continue murmuring soothingly to Nick.
"Mark, get more gauze," Angie commands curtly again.
Mark stares at the wound with gauze getting more and more swallowed by red. There is plenty already there around the knife.
"Quickly!"
Mark jolts and immediately strides towards the cart again, grabbing more gauze as much as he can from the open drawer haphazardly. He brings it to Angie who receives it with one hand without looking. She quickly but gently stuffs it again around the knife, almost making a mount around the weapon.
"I need to stabilize the knife so that it doesn't move around," she explains at Mark's questioning look.
A few minutes later after that, the red still spreads out quickly, soaking the gauze, even as Nick doesn't move around anymore at the pressure put on his abdomen.
"Fuck," Angie hisses, "it's not slowing down."
Mark can also notice that as he stares at the wound. When he looks at Nick's face, his eyes are half-lidded, and his consciousness seems to be dwindling fast.
Angie looks at Nick with face betraying her fear. Even she is starting to panic.
She squeezes her eyes, gears visibly turning in her head as she is thinking of something. At one point, she opens her eyes wide then looks at Luke, who is standing in her direct line of vision next to the doorway.
"Get me our blowtorch. And two small steel bars—or any metal that's sturdy and long but thin. We have some, right? For building rack or awning and stuff?" she says quickly and almost frantically.
Luke furrows his eyebrows, visibly confused by her barrage of requests.
"I don't—we don't have—I mean do we have some—"
"Just find some!" she yells again.
Luke immediately moves his legs to run out.
"At least 2 and a half feet long and 2 inches wide at most!" she yells out as Luke is just out of the doorway.
He pauses a little and yells back, "Okay!" before running again.
Angie looks towards Anderson this time, who for once is looking like he is panicking and heavily affected, unlike his usual breezy attitude.
"Get me duct tape and as many towels as you can find, or any fabric thick and big."
Anderson reacts faster than Luke before, immediately running out without questioning her.
"Oh fuck," she exclaims now, closing her eyes in frustration.
Mark looks worriedly at her, as Lena does.
At everyone's seemingly panicked looks at her exclamation, Angie schools her expression and says with steady voice, "I just forgot to ask for cutter."
"We have scissors here," Mark tells her, furrowing his eyebrows.
Angie widens her eyes almost excitedly.
"Yeah, shit, I'm so dumb. Of course, we have scissors here," she quickly responds.
"I'll get it."
Mark walks back to the cart, absently thinking about how many times he went back and forth between the cart and the bed. He rummages through the contents of the drawer again and finds stainless steel medical grade scissors then brings them back to Angie.
When she receives it, she just puts it on the bed. Mark looks questioningly at her again.
"For the duct tape later. I can't rip it. It's gonna disturb the knife."
Another few minutes pass, and they all hear running steps closing in on the med bay. Then Luke and Anderson poke into the room. Luke is holding the long steel bars on one hand and blowtorch on the other hand that he hangs down. Anderson is carrying mounds of blankets and towels on his forearm with duct tape on top. They approach the bed across Mark and Angie while holding on to the stuff they grabbed.
"Two small steel bars, thin and only 2 inches wide. They're 3 feet long," Luke says, adding unsurely, "I think."
Angie throws a look at the stuff Luke is bringing.
"Good enough. The blowtorch?"
Luke raises his other hand, presenting the item.
"Blankets, fabric, whatever, and duct tape." Anderson informs this time.
"Thanks," Angie throws in absently.
She takes a deep breath then lets it out, looking at the things they both brought, seemingly arranging her mind on how to execute her plan, whatever it is.
Nick looks down on her weakly, still with the gauze in his mouth but not bitten. It looks wet with his saliva that the blood on the corner of the gauze is spreading into faded red close to his lips.
"Okay," she eventually says, holding out her hands as Mark immediately replaces them again with his own to keep putting pressure on the still bleeding wound. Luke slowly turns his palm to make the metals horizontal, giving it to her.
Angie holds both of them tight, hands slowly sliding towards the two ends.
"Anderson, put down your stuff and walk here."
He complies quickly, bending down to put his items on the floor next to him then straightening up in quick succession. He walks around the bed to Nick's right where Mark and Angie are standing.
"You too, Luke. Walk here behind me."
Luke then jogs to stand behind three of them.
"Hold them down on this end," she says, pointing to the metals’ end closest to Anderson. He complies quickly again.
Angie slides her hands again carefully to the other end, separating the two metals slightly then pushing them down slowly. Anderson simply follows her movement while holding his steel end together, leaving some space to slide the blade of the dagger in-between.
Angie holds the ends of the two metal bars, putting the dagger's blade gently in the middle, leaving only a few inches beside the sharp side where Anderson is still holding them together. She leaves the other end that she is holding at over two feet in length.
"What are you doing?" Mark asks suspiciously, worried that whatever Angie is doing is going to injure Nick more.
She doesn't heed him, focusing on placing the steel carefully.
The ends of the steels she is holding are still separated, as opposed to Anderson's. He doesn't dare to change his hold without command from Angie.
"Okay, I'm gonna pull these up so it's pointing up. Hold your end steady," she says to Anderson. He nods, and Mark is still clueless.
Angie pulls the other ends of the metal with everyone in the room watching raptly, making sure to do it carefully so that it doesn't actually touch or move the knife on Nikolai's torso.
Once the steel bars are roughly at 45 degree above Nick, she holds both steels’ ends together again really tight, making sure the knife is stuck between them.
"Mark, get the duct tape."
He doesn't waste time following her command, glad to have something to do.
"Okay, where do I stick it?"
Angie points to the end that Anderson is still holding, then she points at the end she is holding as she says, "And this.”
Mark pulls out the end of the duct tape to cut half a foot piece, and then cuts another with the same length.
Anderson moves his hands one by one to change his hold to beside the dull side of the knife so that Mark can duct tape the spot he held before. After that, Anderson goes back to holding the end that's now securely stuck together.
Mark does the same thing with Angie's end.
"Okay, now the blanket."
Mark goes around the bed again to where Anderson put the fabrics before since the other man is occupied.
"Wrap one around your end," pointing at Anderson's hold, "then hold the bottom of it so the weight isn't on his stomach."
Even compliant, Anderson and the others all still look confused at Angie's commands.
Angie seems to not care, reaching out one hand to Mark to ask for another fabric without looking. Mark just gives one to her, quiet despite his continual puzzlement. She now wraps the towel around her end then steps to the side a little bit so that there is a space for Mark to stand.
"Luke," she calls out to behind her, "give the blowtorch to Mark and prepare to hold Nick's leg."
Mark receives it with his right hand, palm instinctively wrapping around the hold with index finger at the trigger.
"Keep away from Nick's left side, all right?"
Everyone nods at her loud warning.
She inhales deeply again, looking like even she is unsure about this.
"I'm going to cauterize his wound with the knife, and I can't do it directly because it's too close to his body. So I'm heating it up through these two metals."
There is understanding in everyone's face now that she explains why she is telling everyone to do what she asked before.
She then turns towards Nick's face with an apologetic expression.
"I'm really sorry, bud."
Nick just blinks blearily. Mark doesn't think he is even cognizant enough to know what she is saying.
"Don't touch the knife or the metal," she warns Anderson then nods at Mark.
With some remaining doubt in his mind, Mark eventually presses the blowtorch trigger and everyone near the bed leans away to the side. Mark steps back slightly so that only his right hand holding the blowtorch is close. He fires the twin steels in the middle, away from Anderson's and Angie's holds.
The fire burning is loud, even though it still doesn't rival his thundering heartbeats in his eardrums, and the four people around him are visibly trying hard to hold their position steady.
The rest of them just watch carefully.
After a few minutes, he can tell that the air is hot with the dancing transparent heat around the blowtorch, yet neither metal bar hasn't changed color to tell them that it's heating up enough, let alone for the knife. Five of them look at the gauze on the wound, and the red is still spreading and darkening.
"Fuck, it doesn't heat up fast enough," Angie hisses again as she is firmly holding her hands' position.
"You think it's safe if I get another one?" their commanding officer asks this time.
"Okay, just get another."
Horace then steps out of the room at Angie's response.
There is a distant clanking sound before Horace shows up again with another blowtorch. He walks around the bed with a wide berth and gives it to Mark. He takes it then fires it to the steels alongside the first one promptly.
After a while, they finally see a change of color on the part that Mark is heating up. Another minute goes on, and Nick starts to turn his head again with eyes gaining back some of their clarity.
Lena and Luke brace to hold him down.
Few seconds later, Nick starts whimpering again, teeth biting the gauze in his mouth, and Lena is tightening their hold on Nick's hands and chest. On the other side, Luke is pushing his palms down Nick's thighs.
After a few moments, they start hearing slight sizzling coming from the wound, and now Nick's whimpering gets louder and louder until he screams and trashes around.
"I'm sorry, fuck, I'm really sorry," he hears Lena says softly this time, gasping tightly in time with their hold as they try to keep Nick steady against his wrangling.
He screams so loudly now and chokes out sobs, turning his head side to side as he tries to fight the hold on his body.
"Stoooop! Please, please stop!" he begs now as he wails, letting go of the gauze in his mouth. He is still trying to escape the tight grips on his body.
"Okay, Mark, you can stop now, it’s heated enough," Angie says shakily as she stares at Nick's extremely pale and agonized face with tears splotchy all over it. Mark immediately stops firing both blowtorches.
Nikolai sobs again, squeezing his eyes in pain, and Mark doesn't have the heart to keep seeing him like that, knowing that he is part of Nick's misery even if it's needed to save him.
"We gotta take away the metal, otherwise it's gonna keep heating up the knife," she says shakily.
They all keep whipping their heads around, panicked and confused about how to do it with Nick's wailing and sobs accompanying them.
Eventually Horace initiates it by going around the bed to get another thick fabric, another blanket this time, and wraps it around the middle part of the metal thickly.
Angie and Anderson use the opportunity to let go of their own hold with Anderson reaching for the scissors to cut the duct tape on his end.
"Quickly!" they all yell at him.
"Yeah, I'm trying," he yells back as he shakily cuts the duct tape, eventually cutting it loose after few seconds of struggling.
He hands it to Angie this time, who is quicker and steadier in her cutting.
Horace quickly pulls apart the two metals and walks back away from Nick.
"Okay, we need to cool down the knife now," Horace says this time after throwing the metals to the floor away from them with loud clanking.
Mark just quickly grabs the blanket that Anderson held before and runs to the corner of the room where a stainless-steel sink is located. He runs the blanket under the cold water on the sink, then immediately runs back to the bed.
"Okay, okay, it's okay, it's over now," he says hurriedly but gently to Nick as he carefully wraps the wet blanket around the knife, holding it there. He tries to hold his gaze, hoping that it looks comforting to the heterochromatic-eyed boy.
Slowly, Nick's pinched face goes slack, his breathing labored with inhales and exhales more and more apart. The clarity and desperate look before start to fade again from the swirly blue-brown eyes.
Mark doesn't know whether the cauterization works, or there are just too many layers of fabric around Nick's stab wound that he can't see the still spreading blood. He braves himself to pull away the wet blanket, now uncomfortably warm in his hand, and looks at the gauzes below.
"I think... I think it slows down… a bit," Lena breaks the silence quietly.
Eventually, as they keep holding their position and staring at Nick—even Don and Anna from the doorway—they start to notice Nick's eyes getting less and less alert until they roll back into the skull.
"Fuck."
Mark starts to panic again at Angie's cry.
But before they have too much time pondering and letting their minds wander morbidly, they hear loud banging from the outside. Anna turns away to presumably check who is at their front door.
Familiar yelling voice is heard with Anna's nervous and hurried voice responding, interrupted repeatedly by the masculine yelling voice. They both get closer and closer, followed by clanking of what sounds like a toolbox and hard, angry stomping.
Eventually, they see Doctor Lowe on the doorway with three nurses holding tubes, medical pouches, medical toolbox, IV poles, and whatever else is brought with them. The surgeon's face is slightly red with enraged expression, while the two male and one female nurses look disappointed at them. Anna is peeking around behind them, with a slightly scared face after what Mark assumes was angry scolding.
Doctor Lowe bares his teeth before tightly spitting, "You idiot fucks can't be trusted to keep that poor kid alive even for a second, huh?"
They all look down, reminding him of children being scolded by their disappointed parents, which the surgeon might as well be in this situation.
"OUT!" he bellows, some of Mark's teammates jumping in fright.
Still, they dutifully walk away from the bed, filing out of the door one by one with hunched shoulders as Doctor Lowe's angry eyes stare them down one by one.
Mark still stares at Nick's unconscious face, prompting Lena to pull his hand and whispers, "Marcus, come on."
He eventually steps aside shakily, almost stumbling as he walks away while still looking at Nikolai. The further he walks, the less alive the younger man looks.
Once he is outside after getting similar treatment from their surgeon, he finally feels a wave of shakiness, hot and cold all over his body. He slides down, all energy depleted from his body that he can't keep himself up.
He doesn't quite hear what their senior surgeon says before the door is slammed closed. He can't—he doesn't understand. His mind is too loud.
There is ringing in his ears, uncomfortably loud and dominating his heartbeat now. He supposes after all the frantic and chaotic moments before when they were all trying to stop Nick's bleeding, he finally runs out of adrenaline and is now experiencing the crash, making him weak and lightheaded.
The others turn to him, slightly worried expression as they look at his face. He feels cold there too, blood drained from his face. He probably looks really pale.
Now that the chaos is over, he looks around at the other agents. Several of them have blotchy spots of deep red all over them. He then looks down as he pulls up his trembling hands with the palms up.
So much blood. So much fucking blood.
His hands are bathed in it, up to his wrists.
Fuck. Oh, fuck.
He starts to shake, then chokes out sobs while looking at the blood that still feels wet and sticky all over his fingers. He feels faint. He feels overcharged. He feels numb. He feels agitated. He feels warm. He feels freezing.
He feels—he doesn't—
Oh, god. Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
"Hey," he hears Lena's voice penetrating the loud ringing in his ears.
When he turns to them, they appear to have been calling to him for a while and only just now manage to catch his attention. Lena’s face looks worried and sympathetic, while others look at him with expressions ranging from sad, pitying, regretful, and afraid.
Lena wraps their arms around Mark's much wider shoulder, his hands now squeezed between both of their bodies. He can still feel the trembles in his fingers, crimson wetness all over them even if he can’t see it. He even feels some dripping down his pants.
"He's gonna be okay," he hears Lena say, "he's gonna be okay."
Somewhere distant in his mind he realizes that they're saying it more for themself than for Mark.
***
To staunch Nick's bleeding before Doctor Lowe comes to properly operate on Nick, Angie tells several agents to bring stuff for impromptu cauterization by heating up the dagger through other metal bars put around the blade. Luke and Lena hold Nick down so that he doesn't wriggle around. Mark heats up the metal bars with blowtorch. Angie and Anderson hold the metal bars steady. Anna and Don are told to get out, then Doctor Lowe arrives while angry at the team for getting Nick injured again.
***
(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)
#whump#whumptober2022#whump community#no.29#no.27#no.26#no.24#muffled screams#blood covered hands#emergency blanket#ringing ears#OC#writing#weapon#knife#cauterization#forced cauterization#suicide attempt#suicide ideation#english#original work#me#me write#D.E.A.N
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
COLORS OF THE END #2: Silver of the Knife
Synopsis: Isobele gets revenge.
CW: Child soldiers, stabbing, blood, GORE GORE GORE, hallucinations, bug hallucinations, really graphic description of gore and wounds, cauterization, lady whump, Ben and Isobele's ceaseless bickering even as one of them is dying, pain, passing out due to pain, I think that's it??? let me know if I missed anything
Previous | Masterlist | Next
Word count: 2.9k
It only took a moment. A moment's distraction. A singular glint of something familiar to pull her attention away from what was important. A flash of something from her past. It was just a doll. A singular doll made from cloth. Clearly hand stitched. Peeking out from under a tent. Isobele didn’t know why it called to her like so, but she couldn’t help herself. She crouched, grabbing it, examining it in her hand. Ben and Jeremiah were talking on the other end of the camp, she could hear their voices. Talking idly about something she couldn’t be bothered about.
Isobele heard him before she felt him. His foot rustled the tent. She spun around to face him, if she couldn’t see him, her power wouldn’t work. But she saw his eyes, he was already too close. The knife slid in like butter. Just beneath her left rib cage. It slid out just as easily. Her hand grabbed the wrist, twisting. He grunted, kicking her backwards with a foot to her stomach.
“You killed the kid. He was.. He was just a kid,” he whispered as he turned around, ready to run.
There was nowhere to run for him. Her breath caught in her throat. Hand covering her wound. She ignored the burning pain, the way every breath seemed to send more blood on her hand. She was ripped apart from the inside. Isobele shook her head, she needed to focus. Focus on what was in front of her. Push through the pain. She’d done this before. She could do it again.
“I don’t see any kids here,” Isobele said, voice soft.
The man's head was not hard to get into, she ripped through it with relative ease. A name was in the forefront of his mind. Julius. Not his name. His name was unimportant though. She just needed a few pictures, some images and she could create something new. Something horrifying.
“All I see is you.”
His own hands were covered in blood. Not his blood. It traveled up his arms, under his shirt, up to his neck. Over his chin, into his mouth. He was choking on it. He wasn’t choking, but he felt like he was, hands going to his throat. Scratching at it.
No survivors.
Bugs crawling over him, into his mouth, the hand with the knife, glints in the light. Silver and red. A reflection. The knife carves into the soft flesh of his throat, splitting it down the middle. The knife falls into the dirt. His hands dug into the skin, poking and prodding. Pulling. Strings of muscle and she could see the bone in his throat. His trachea was open to the world. Blood spills down his front, completely covering his chest. Honestly, it’s a wonder he’s still alive as he falls to his knees. Gurgling sounds coming from him. One last push, more feelings of something crawling there. His own hand grabbed his trachea, fingers around the bone, and she saw him pull. More choking sounds, and the light in his eyes dies. He fell forward, his hand outstretched. His trachea was in his hand, covered in red and bits of pink.
Her job was finished and the pain came back tenfold. Her breathing was labored and she finally mustered the strength to call out.
“Benjamin! Jeremiah!” she calls, grunting as she forces herself to a standing position. “Come here for a second…” Her world spun and she took a step forward. The pain shooting down her leg, up inside her ribs.
“Oh shit.. Oh shit. Issy,” Ben screeched, immediately rushing to her side, arm around her waist, holding her up. “Why the fuck would you get stabbed at a time like this huh?”
“What like I had a choice?” she bit out.
“Could have gotten stabbed closer to the train. You’d bleed less.”
“You’re a dick.”
“Guys stop,” said Jeremiah, staring at the treeline. Probably gauging whether they could make it to the train before she bled out. That would be nice, she was actually quite keen on not dying. Besides it would be a real strike to her ego if she died from something as stupid as a stab wound. As Jeremiah calculated, Ben got to work. Pressing his own hand to her side.
“Pressure Issy. Lots of pressure.”
Isobele hissed through her teeth, groaning. Finally she let herself lean against him, her world spinning for a moment. Vision going grey. She bit down the nausea in her stomach, crawling its way up her throat. She was so tired suddenly and she slumped forward.
“No. No. Come on Isobele. Do not pass out right now. I swear to everything, I will kill you if you die.”
Oh, full name, she was in trouble now wasn’t she?
“We need to cauterize it,” came the voice in front of her. Jeremiah’s soft and still cracking voice. God he was so young. “She’s bleeding too much. We need to do it now.”
“Yeah.. Yeah.. Do what he says. For once the kid is right,” Isobele agreed, as Benjamin started to set her down. He left her sitting up against a box of supplies, she held her hand over her wound. Her throat felt like it was closing. Why did she want to cry? She was not going to die here. That was just an embarrassing thought.
She didn’t realize that Ben and Jeremiah were arguing until she looked at them again. Oh, she must have blacked out a little. Their words came flooding back into her head.
“Jeremiah you have to. Come on. You have to heat up the knife, Isobele doesn’t have her daggers and even if she did she’s too weak to charge it herself.”
“No! I don’t want to. I’ll lose control and.. and.. I can’t control it that well.”
“Yes you can. You have to Jem. Come on. If you don’t she will die. Do you want her to die, Jem?”
Jeremiah stepped away from Benjamin, who was holding the knife that had been used to stab her. It glinted in the light. Even covered in blood it still shined. Isobele found herself wondering if she could be like that too. Still silver even under the cover of blood.
“You’re scaring him Ben. You keep that up and this whole place goes up into ash. Including us. I actually plan on making it back to the rendezvous. What about you? Calm down, take a deep breath. I’m not going to die here if you just think for a moment, idiot.”
Ben turned to her, eyes wide, then he glanced at Jeremiah. Jeremiah was panicking too, breathing fast, static was filling the air. Slowly, Ben approached the kid. One hand snaked around Jeremiah’s head, cradling it and he pressed his forehead against his.
“Hey kid, breathe. I’m sorry. I got scared. Let it get the best of me. Won’t happen again I swear. But you’re in control here okay? You’ve got it. Deep breaths and you can do it.”
Jeremiah’s hand shook but he gripped the sharp end of the knife. Static in the air once again. There was silence for a moment before the knife’s color changed from silver to the orange of fire. Ben smiled.
“Good. Good,” Ben said softly, as Jeremiah retracted his hand wincing. It was cut and it smelled like burnt flesh. “We’ll get you cleaned up when we get back okay?”
Then Ben kneeled down over her legs, lifting her shirt to reveal the wound. She winced as the shirt stuck to it. It was open and as she uncovered it with her hand, more blood gushed out. Ben hissed through his teeth, holding the knife over the wound. So close she could feel the heat.
Isobele couldn’t look at it, instead she just looked at him. She looked at Benjamins brown eyes that meant safety. Swallowing thickly she nodded.
“Do you need something to bite on or–”
“Geez, just do i-”
Isobele screamed.
Her world went black. She was back home in her hammock, staring at the clouds. Silver. They were silver. Not clean silver like the knife she could see her reflection in, but a grey silver that seemed angry and tired.
She came to in Benjamins arms. He was carrying her with his hands under her knees, the other around the small of her back. Oh god, she was never going to live this one down was she? She could hear him now.
I saved your life, blah blah blah.
Gross. She’d never admit to it.
It was a slow trek through the forest, mostly quiet save for Ben’s slow humming of a song she didn’t recognize.
“I can see your eyes open, I know you’re awake.”
“Barely,” she groaned, “tell anyone back at base about this and I will kill you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, kill me when you can stand upright by yourself,” Ben said with a small laugh. He shifted her in his arms and pain shot through her body. Up in her stomach and down into her legs. She was on fire. Isobele whimpered and shook her head.
“Ben,” Isobele whispered, “It hurts.”
“I know. We’ll get you to Sonya and she’ll heal you up okay?” There was a tension in his voice. Worry? She ignored that. She always ignored it so that it didn’t have to live in her head that Ben cared about her. It was easier to deal with if she pretended that they hated each other.
Jeremiah whistled lowly, signaling something. They stopped moving, listening, and waiting. A few seconds later a whistle came through the forest, sharp and loud. They all looked at each other, then stepped through the foliage.
Zachary stood next to the train, leaning against the sleek metal flipping a coin in his hand. She never understood his obsession with that coin. They didn’t even use coins like that anymore. Only in areas where they held onto old ways, too afraid to change. But most people used batteries now, they were way more valuable than some old coin with a dead guy's face on it.
The man pushed himself to stand straighter, staring at them. The disappointment was written all over him. It made her stomach do a flip. Zachary was always disappointed in them. Somehow there was always something they could do better, something they could improve on. Nothing was ever satisfactory.
Zachary walked up to them and looked at the wound for a moment, leaning down and pressing a hand gently on it. It set fire under her skin. She squirmed away and looked up at Ben, whose face was carefully neutral. Even if his grip had tightened slightly.
“What happened?” Zachary asked, his voice smooth, brows furrowed in worry.
“She got hurt. We need Sonya,” Ben said, voice shaking a bit.
“Jeremiah what happened to her?”
Jeremiah seemed to appear from nowhere, stepping up beside Ben. Zachary always asked him for the truth, because he always told it. Jem was annoying like that. Always following orders perfectly and telling the truth. The good thing was, Isobele was the only one who truly knew what happened. She pictured the man’s trachea in his hand, covered in blood and muscle. There was a certain pride that she took in her work. In the way that she could make people do what she wanted, see what she wanted. She was strong enough to make a man tear out his own throat with his bare hands. She wasn’t strong enough to stop him from stabbing her first though.
“I’m not sure, Sir. She was alone when we caught up with her. She had already been stabbed and the man was dead. Isobele killed him. Sir, he tore out his own throat. It was impressive. There was-”
Zachary raised his hand to stop Jeremiah from speaking and the boy's mouth clamped shut.
“That’s enough. Take her inside. I’ll have Terry set her up with an IV and pain killers,” he said sighing, “I’ll talk to you later about paying attention to your surroundings. You let someone sneak up on you. You could have died.”
She almost did. Isobele cringed slightly at the reprimand. Ignoring the urge to hide her face in Ben’s shoulder. Resisting the urge to put a thought into Zachary’s head about crawling under the train and letting it cut him in half when it started moving.
Ben huffed a breath, “Can we go inside now? She isn’t as light as she looks and my arms are going numb.”
“You’re an ass,” she grumbled.
Zachary sighed, stepping aside. Placing a hand on Ben’s shoulder and whispering something in his ear that Isobele couldn’t hear. Ben’s jaw tensed and he nodded, stepping up on the train steps and carrying her inside.
__
The rest of it, getting the IV, everything was a blur. She blamed that on the painkillers. On the brightside, she was able to sleep through most of the train ride back. Sleeping ten out of twelve hours was something she didn’t do often and she was grateful at the opportunity. When she woke up, her head felt like it was filled with cotton. Everything blurred but there was one thing that was clear in her vision. Jeremiah, he sat in the chair across from her, one leg crossed over the other, book in his hand in the dim light. His hands were bandaged, again.
“Oh,” he said softly. “You’re awake. You slept a lot. Ben told Zachary to let you.”
“How long have I been asleep?” she asked, moving to set up, fire spread through her abdomen and she cringed. Maybe sitting up wasn’t the best idea. “No Sonya?” she asked.
“No she’s back at base, she’ll heal you when you get there.”
“Oh.”
Jeremiah hummed, closing his book and he looks up at her. He’s got odd eyes. The kid had always had odd eyes. One light blue, like ice, the other so black you could drown in them. He had a soft voice, a soft demeanor. He was soft all around. Jeremiah was also stupidly tall for a fourteen year old. Or perhaps she was just stupidly small.
Jeremiah leaned forward and pulled something from his back pocket. It glints in the light. The knife. The one that stabbed her. She reached for it, grabbing it by the handle and looking it over. It’s heavy, heavier than she thought. The handle is carved from wood. In the wood is carved a V. She thumbs with the sharpness, impressed. It makes a soft sound when she flicks her thumb across. Perfect.
“Thought you might want to add it to the collection,” he said, shrugging and leaning back.
“Yeah. It’s a nice dagger.”
“Shiny,” he agreed awkwardly. God he was so fucking awkward. What was it? The murder at age twelve? Or was it just his regular personality? Either way it was fucking strange. Jeremiah was strange.
“You’re fucking weird kid,” She commented, flipping the knife in her hand.
“Thank you,” Jeremiah said, tilting his head to the side. “I have something else for you.”
“What is it?”
Jeremiah pulled something out of his front pocket. A paper. He unfolded it slightly and it came to life. A small paper crane. Perhaps a homage to one of their first meetings. When Isobele was a grand age of eleven and Jem was a shy eight year old. She held out her hand and he gently transferred it to her palm.
It was an old memory, a fond one. One of her only ones when it came to Jeremiah. He hadn’t talked when he first came to them. Zachary said that he was just adjusting, Isobele believed that he just had nothing to say. It was after a particularly hard day of pushing herself, of training too hard like usual. She sat in the hallway outside of the arena, catching her breath. Jeremiah came out to join her. Placed a paper crane in her hand.
She made it look like it was flying, and had it soar around the hallway. Just like now as she made it look like it was flying around the room. It flew by Jeremiah’s head, and around her own. It flew toward the window and landed on the sill. They watched for a moment before the illusion flickered and the crane stayed still in her hand.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Something digging at her chest, making her throat close. Jeremiah was a kind soul. If he had the choice he’d probably never hurt a fly. Yet here he was, making sure that there were no survivors in a rebel camp. And gifting her silver knives and paper cranes.
“I figured you could use something good,” he said with a smile, patting the bed twice and standing up, moving to leave.
“You don’t have to go. You could stay.”
“And do what?”
She glanced at the book in the boy's hand. “Tell me about your book.”
Jeremiah’s face brightened and he sat down again, starting to talk. She was barely listening, she just didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t seem to mind as she stared out the window. She thumbed her finger over the carved V in the handle, vaguely wondering what the name of the man was that she killed. That she made carve out his own throat.
It didn’t matter, she decided, he was dead anyway.
__
Taglist: @coyotehusk
#whump fic#whump#whumpblr#sunshine writes whump#child soldiers#Colors of the End#cauterization#superpowers#superpower whump#stabbing#GORE#cw: gore#cw blood#hallucinations#forced hallucinations#minor whump
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Turn your radio off, they're listening
Unedited, brighter version
#art#my art#Audio-drama#Fan art#Podcast#fiction podcast#audio fiction#Tower 4#Mike archer#Amber Reed#7 lamb productions#GUYS IT'S FINALLY HERE IN FINALLY DONE#I can finally focus on a couple Christmas gifts then I can sell my soul to the devil for the Cauterized audio-drama#I have the first five episodes planned out and sort of written#Like half of each... Episode...#Sorry for all the tags I spent 2 months on it so I'm forcing it upon everyone#Detail shots incoming#Spotify
65 notes
·
View notes
Text
File: OC 22
SCP#: AGG
Code Name: The Black Fruit of the Black Flower
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: There currently are no ways to contain or even get rid of SCP-AGG instances. All efforts to suppress their manifestation has been left to the Department of the Impossible.
Description: SCP-AGG are strange black flowers that manifest in our world in seemingly random places. These flowers can manifest anywhere on any surface even on rocks, metals, toxic areas, or areas of temperatures where it's impossible for regular flora to grow. These flowers often manifest near a particular person that has been noticed by Group of Interest: The Black Queen's Insurgency. These people are typically extremely smart, strong, talented, possess anomalous abilities, or just happen to be associated with another Group of Interest. For obvious reasons the target is typically a staff member of the SCP Foundation.
Once an SCP-AGG instance blooms near this person it will release a pheromone that will suppress their common sense and increase hunger. Afterwards a delicious black fruit will manifest at the center of the flower. The person will feel indulged to eat the fruit and do so quickly and vigorously. After eating the fruit, the flower will disintegrate, and the person will have no memory of it or the fruit ever existing to begin with.
The person will not have any initial side effects at first however either a month or a weak later they will still have no personality change but will now be completely loyal to the Black Queen's Insurgency. For the first few months of alteration, they will act as they normally do but they will either get a token, tattoo, or piece of jewelry that has the insignia of the Black Queen's Insurgency. Afterwards depending on how "essential" they are considered, they will either be collected by the Black Queen's Insurgency or receive a random communication device that communicates to the Group of Interest but is completely untraceable.
It should be noted this is the sole method of recruitment into the Black Queen's Insurgency that the Foundation is aware of. It's also unfortunately a common method to have BQI spies into the Foundation without Mobile Task Force Beta-1 "Cauterizers" knowing of them. The O5 Council had to begrudgingly rely on the Department of the Impossible to weed most of them out.
SCP-AGG was discovered in [data expunged by order of the O5 Council] how this is possible is unknown. The Foundation had suffered many losses and a few containment breaches since then, it was only after the Department of the Impossible was created that the attacks from the Black Queen's Insurgency was suppressed. Though this has unfortunately left Dr. Stefánsdóttir as a high target for the Black Queen's Insurgency.
Though Dr. Stefánsdóttir is a level 5 Reality Bender with ever increasing strength, it should be noted the best way to kill a Reality Bender of that level is another Level 5. Unfortunately, the Alison Chao in charge of the Black Queen's insurgency, or at least the one the Foundation is aware of, has been confirmed to be a Level 5 Reality Bender. As a result to two have clash quite often, leaving Dr. Stefánsdóttir severely injured quite a number of times.
Though she recovers instantly after each fight is over, the Multiverse Management Division of the Department of Universal Affairs has been assigned to identify the reality of the Black Queen's Insurgency. They are working around the clock so that the Foundation can finally block it off permanently form our reality. This is one of the highest priorities of the Foundation as we cannot afford to lose the director of the Department of the Impossible.
.
SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub
#DZtheNerd#SCP: Horror Movie Files#SCP: HMF#SCP Foundation#SCP Fanfiction#SCP AU#SCP#SCP OC#SCP Fanmade#Department of Universal Affairs#Department of the Impossible#Mobile Task Force Beta-1 “Cauterizers”#Reality Bender#Level 5 Reality Bender#Group of Interest#The Black Queen's Insurgency#SCP-AGG#Keter
0 notes
Text
and then liam falls over and everyone (just me) cheers
#CAUSE ITLL FORCE HIM TO CONFRONT HIS HEALTH RIGHT?#RIGHT??? NO. NO.#HE STILL FINDS A WAY TO AVOID IT AS HE CAUTERIZES A WOUND. OKAY!!!!!!
1 note
·
View note
Text
Thinking about Ballister caring for his wound alone. Having to cauterize it and clean it and care for it. Dealing with that overwhelming pain, not just the physical but the emotional of knowing that he’s in so much pain because of the man he loved. Cleaning it every day until it becomes a numb force of habit. Struggling with phantom pains and chronic pain and having to make himself a new arm because his dominant hand is gone. While simultaneously trying to figure out how he’s going to clear his name, how he’s going to fix this, but he’s in too much pain to even think properly.
Thinking about Ballister sobbing, wailing, into the blood-soaked floor, wracked with agony, with no one there to help or comfort him.
Because the one person that had cared about him was the one who had done this to him.
#im so normal about this (lying)#nimona spoilers#nimona#ballister boldheart#ballister blackheart#ballister x ambrosius#ambrosius goldenloin
4K notes
·
View notes
Note
I wonder how platonic task force 141 would react to reader sealing a wound with a heated knife or just a heated piece of metal like a total badass.
Total Badass
————————————————————————————————————————
pairing: platonic 141 x grim
warnings: usual cod violence, description of wound, vomit
summary: grim gets injured, and instead of asking for help, they fix it themselves
————————————————————————————————————————
you didn’t think you’d ever be in this position, honestly. your arm had a pretty deep gash wound in it, and you could thank a knife for that.
you had been caught up with the enemy. them catching you off guard, and slicing your arm open before you got the final blow on them.
you and the rest of the task force were holed up in a warehouse while hiding. unable to get to the safe house without being spotted in the daylight. you had to wait til it was dark to move.
you sat with your back against the wall, clutching your arm. the wound stung something awful, and you were getting lightheaded from the blood loss. it was deep, and you didn’t have time to stitch it back up.
blood trickled from beneath your fingers and hit the ground in a steady stream. a large puddle surrounded your boots, staining the leather. your shirt was ruined now, and you didn’t bother rolling the sleeve up. tearing it off instead.
“shhhit.” your teeth were clenched as you put more pressure on the wound. brows furrowing in pain as you did.
you released your arm and stuck your hand in your pocket, pulling out a lighter before reaching for your knife.
“grim, you okay? what are ya doin’?” soap cut himself off as he watched you pull out the weapon.
with gritted teeth, you answered your fellow sergeant, “don’ have time to stitch- gotta cauterize it.”
this bought the attention of the others, their heads whipping in your direction.
“what?” price stalked over.
“i don’t have time! i’ll bleed out, it’s too deep.” you panted out between grunts of pain.
“do you want one of us to do it?” ghost stepped into your vision. the only giveaway of his concern was his unconcealed eyes going soft.
“no, go keep watch. i’ll be fine.”
“alright..” he walked off, but not too far. he wanted to be there if you needed him.
with your injured arm, you held up the knife. using your good hand to flick the lighter on, heating up the blade.
the smell of blood and lighter fluid flooded your nostrils as the blade turned red.
“ah shit. okay, okay. here we go.”
you made sure the blade was the right color before asking soap for his belt.
he tore it off, no hesitation, and stuffed it between your teeth when you opened your mouth.
“i need to bite on it, or everyone within a five mile radius is going to hear me.”
you didn’t waste another second before setting the blade in your good hand and against your skin.
the pain was a blinding white as your screams were muffled against the belt.
burning flesh filled the room along with your noises of discomfort. your vision went blurry and your body was rigid in pain. nausea overtook your body as you held the blade against your burning flesh.
“holy shit!” soap reached forward to steady you with a hand on your shoulder.
“fuck!” you spit the belt out, panting. “god damn, that fucking hurts.” tears sprung to your eyes, slowly dropping down your cheeks.
you turned your body from soap before you retched up all your contents. his hand falling to your back.
you took a few deep breaths as your vision started to come back, leaning against the wall again.
a hand on your face made your eyes shoot up.
“yer not gonna pass out are ya?” soap’s voice was distant.
“mmmm no promises.” your eyes fluttered a bit.
“shit! price! get o’er here.” he all but shouted to your captain in panic.
price darted forward, placing a hand on your other shoulder.
“grim, hey.” he snapped his fingers in your face. “gotta look at me, kid. alright? you’re good.”
his kind eyes were filled with panic. you tried. you tried so hard to keep your eyes open. the ringing in your ears became louder, and your vision went blurry again. you tried to say something, but eventually it all faded to black.
———
your body being jostled around woke you quickly. a pressure was against your face and under your thighs.
slowly opening your eyes, you see you’re outside. the forest dark and the moon offered little light.
you let out a small groan, looking left and right. your head felt heavy, and your stomach rolled from the movement of being carried on uneven ground.
the first person to come into view was gaz. he held a soft smile while his brows furrowed in concern.
“hey! you’re up. how you feelin’?” his voice was soft. you didn’t know if it was because you just woke up, or if it was because you were still running from the enemy.
“like shit.” you all but groaned out.
“figures. that was some tough shit, grim.” a voice from beneath you grunted out. ghost turned his head to look back at you.
“yeah, that didn’t feel too great, not gonna lie.”
“let’s just get to the safe house, and we’ll look over it, yeah?”
“yeah. wake me when we’re there.”
“deal.”
————————————————————————————————————————
a/n: i hope you enjoyed :] <3
#grim au#john price#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#soap cod#ghost#john soap mactavish#john price x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#soap x reader#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#cod mw2#cod mw2 imagine#cod x reader#cod mw22#call of duty#cod#141 x reader#task force 141
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
cauterize; cicatrize
Wounds left by love are funny little things. Sometimes, they close by themselves. Sometimes, they close when singed by rejection. Other times, they heal when you scar once again, falling in love once again.
▸ ryomen sukuna x fem!reader; reincarnation au; sukuna has been reawakened in the modern era but he does not have any vessel; reader was sukuna's wife in her previous life; FLUFF, ANGST & HUMOR; grumpy!sukuna; flirty!reader; SO MUCH OF PINING & UNRESOLVED TENSION BETWEEN THESE TWO, I SWEAR!!!; brief mentions of food
▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna! [note: each and every character is 18+ in this story :)]
▸ based on the ask sent by @yuujispinkhair for my milestone event. TYSM WINTER!! 🫶🫶🫶 i don't own the characters, image or divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️
"It's so difficult to know when the gentle flame of love becomes the harsh flame of ruin– isn't it, baby?"
Furious eyes gleam back in the shitty ceiling lights of the restaurant, the very second the waitress who served you the food earlier, lifts an eyebrow in obvious interest before looking away when you shoot her a mirror image of her expression– A very irked call of your name pulls your gaze back to your husband—
No! No! No!!
Ex-husband.
Married to you, over one thousand years back.
No longer is he your terrifying darling husband.
Sukuna stabs his food with a tad too much force than what's needed, growling, "I may not be who I was before, but, don't forget your place, calling me whatever you want, you pathetic—"
"Did I ever tell you how much of a snack you look with your two arms, baby?" you cut him off, carving a small piece of the fish and placing it in your mouth. Your eyes shut momentarily from the rich taste before opening wide again, only to find confusion etched onto your husband companion's face. You continue, ""Cause you really do look so— very, very much similar to how you were in the Heian Era. A damn delicious snack. Or, a scrumptious five course meal— depending on how much you want to indulge silly me, I guess."
Silence greets your comment— the first time in the two hours it took you to convince Sukuna, then drive him to this Thai restaurant– good heavens above, his grumbling's still The Same even after he has been reawakened a millenium later– only to be broken by a too hushed ask within the next moment.
"And what do you think of my two eyes? Are they still as lovely as my four eyes were to you?"
Fondness tugs at your heartstrings, making you want to lean over the table and claim his lips in the neediest kiss ever seen in history— your brain quickly shoves such wishes away, making you return him a fond smile instead. And murmur, "Of course, they are...— Your two big eyes and the two not-really-eyes beneath them... As lovely as red rubies."
Sukuna's look shifts into one of joy, if only for a moment, before being back to scowling once more, the same way you return to your cheeky grin as you inquire, "And what do you think, hm, of the food here? It's just the best– ain't it? Yuuji, Nobara and I discovered this hidden gem on our last mission— and when I tasted the green curry they made– I realized I absolutely had to bring you here, by hook or by crook."
"And which one was it? By hook or by crook?" the curse questions, an extremely rare smirk peeking from the corners of his frown; you don't really grasp how much you missed this sight until now– especially, in the present days, when the only emotion your past lover [and forever beloved] shows you is frustration paired with weary distaste—
You shovel some rice into your mouth to stop the far too familiar train of thoughts– you know where it'll be ending; you know it won't be. An agonizingly slow minute passes, wherein you chew the food so slowly then swallow it down, then stare at your empty bowl of rice for a nice ten seconds before mustering a chuckle.
"Of course, by crook," you reply, ignoring the way Sukuna's gaze roves over your face, then your body dressed in your oldest pair of pajamas; staring not in lust, but with something eerily similar to worry, "No one would've ever allowed me to take you out in their right minds. It's way too risky is what it is. They might even execute me if they find us out."
A beat passes in quiet with you feeling the weight of your words and the implications your actions will bear, slowly sinking into the two of you— before the hush is broken yet again. By your companion again.
Though not with a muted question, but with noisy cackles– the most melodious music you've heard in a duration far too long to your liking.
Sukuna grins, pearly white teeth with those sharp canines on display. Barking a guffaw, he asks, "You're one weak fool, letting love ruin you – aren't you, pet?"
You outstretch a hand over to the other side, dainty fingers brushing away the few grains of rice stuck to his face, then smile– mind going back to the innumerable bloodbaths, the figure before you drenched the country in— them growing in intensity after the winter, you know was your last as the Queen of Curses– given, the dates written in the scrolls on his conquests are accurate... Somehow, you know they are—
Your smile widens, digging pleasantly painful indents in your cheeks, as you retract your hand, shrugging at the stock-still image of shock across.
"What can I say, baby? Learnt to do so, from my king himself."
▸ masterlist
#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x you#jjk x reader#jjk x you#sukuna fluff#sukuna angst#jjk fluff#jjk angst#sukuna drabble#sukuna imagine#sukuna fic#jjk drabbles#jjk imagines#jjk fics#ryomen sukuna#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#kit posts 📝
847 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Grand A-Z List of Whump 1/3
This list contains ~290 items listed A to H
As always, I heavily encourage people to research topics thoroughly when writing. Whump is generally a 'dead dove' sort of topic, however it is important to avoid stereotypes/misinformation. This lists intention is to not glorify/romanticise sensitive topics in any way.
This part one-of-three comprehensive lists of injuries, Illnesses and tropes - including those from the Whumptober 2023 trope vote!
All submissions are listed in italics, and those who wanted to be tagged will be included at the end. If you have any more submissions: please send them via DM/my ask box.
[I-Q]
[R-Z]
[NSFW List]
List below the cut:
#
"I don't need your help."
"I'm doing this to make you better"
"I'm fine, take care of them!"
“I’m Fine”
"Kill me instead"
"Let me in."
"Look at me."
"Should I know you?"
"Take me instead."
(No) Anaesthetic
A
A Good Ol' Sickfic
Abandoned
Abdominal Pain
Aching Wounds
Acne
Adrenaline Crash
Adrift (in space/at sea)
Agoraphobia
Airsickness
Alien abduction
Allergies
Alopecia
Ambulance Ride
Ambush
Amnesia/memory loss
Amputations
Anaemia
Anesthesia
Angina (Heart condition that causes pain)
Animal Attack/Bite
Ankle Sprain
Anthrax
Anxiety/Anxiety attack(s)
Aphasia
Appendicitis
Arrested
Arthritis
Asking for help
Asphyxiation
Assumed Dead
Asthma/Asthma Attack
Auctions
Autoimmune disease
Avalanches
B
Backache
Bad Caretakers
Bandaged Head
Banished
Barbed Wire
Bear trap
Beaten up by ex-friends
Beaten with blunt object (i.e, bat or pipe)
Beatings
Bedrest
Bedside Vigil/Hospital Vigil
Begging
Betrayed by close friend/team/family
Bites (Animal, Bug, Human….)
Biting
Black Eye
Blackmail
Bleeding Out
Bleeding Through
Bandages
Blindfolded
Blindness (this could be temporary or permanent)
Blisters
Blood Loss
Blood Poisoning
Bloodied Knuckles
Bloodstains/blood trail
Bloody handprints
Bloody nose
Blunt force trauma
Blurred vision
Body modification
Body Sharing
Body Switching
Bounty on their head
Brain Damage
Brainwashing
Breakdowns
Breathless
Bridal Carry
Broken Bones (Ribs, Arm, Leg)
Broken Nose
Broken Promises
Bronchitis
Bruises
Building Collapse
Bullet Removal
Bumpy roads jarring injuries
Buried Alive
Burning Building
Burns/Scalding
Busted kneecap
C
Cancer
Caning
Capgras syndrome/delusion (belief that someone close to/important to the person has been replaced by an imposter)
Capsulitis
Captivity
Captured
Car chases (and maybe a car crash)
Carbon monoxide poisoning
Cardiac Arrest
Caretaker has to “play nice” with whumper.
Caretaker has to hurt whumpee while undercover.
Caretaker sacrificing something dear to them to get something the whumpee needs.
Caretaker turned Whumpee
Caretaker-whumper who's a parental whumper. But their "love" is not real love. Or even right treatment.
Carsickness
Cataracts
Catatonia
Caught in a fire
Caught in an explosion
Cauterization
Cave In
Cavity
Celebrity whump (exploitation in the music/movie industries…)
Chaffing from ropes/handcuffs/shackles
Chained/Shackled
Checking for injuries
CHF - congestive heart failure
Chicken Pox
Chills
Chloroform
Choking
Chronic pain
Claustrophobia
Cleaning wounds alone
Cold/Flu,
Collapsed Lung
Collapsing (into someone’s arms is usually nice, bonus points for cradling their head as they lower the whumpee to the floor)
Collapsing after they win
Collapsing/Fainting/Passing Out
Collars
Coma
Comfort after a nightmare
Common cold
Completely betrayed by their own team
Complications
Concussion
Confusion
Constipation
Constricted Airways
COPD - Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease makes breathing increasingly more difficult.
Corporal Punishment
Corset too tight and won’t unbutton
Coughing
Coughing Up Blood
CPR
Cramps
Crikes (intubation through neck)
Crush injury
Crying
Cuddle pile
Curses
Cuts/Grazes
Cutting off hair (more of an emotional hurt)
Cyanide poisoning
D
Damaged Larynx/Vocal Cords
De-aging
Deathbed Confessions (don’t have to actually die and stay dead, just the threat of dying)
Defeat
Defenestration (throwing out a window)
Dehydration
Deja Vu
Delirium (bonus points for this being drug/ fever induced)
Deluded whumper/thinking they’re helping the whumpee
Dengue Fever
Denial
Depression
Dermatitis
Diabetes (type 1 and 2)
Diarrhea
Diseases ('mystery' diseases are the best kind)
Dislocations
Disorientation
Disowned by Family
Displaced hip
Dissociation
Distress call
Dizziness
Dragged Away
Dream sequence
Driving to the hospital with a whumpee slumped barely-conscious in the seat of the car
Drowning
Drunkenness
E
Ear Infection
Edema (swelling from build up of fluid)
EKG
Electrical Burns
Electrical shock
Electrocution
Emergency field surgery
Emergency Surgery
Emotional angst
Emotional manipulation
Endometriosis
Enemy to Caretaker
Energy Drain
Environmental whump
ER
Execution
Exes reunited with one wanting a relationship and the other just wanting friendship.
Exhaustion
Experimentation
Exposure
Extreme Weather
Eye injury
F
Facing Phobias
Failed Escape
Failure to thrive
Fainting
Fainting (but also fainting aftermath) / Fainting due to lack of sleep, food, or overworking fainting from exhaustion
Falling
Falling for Caretaker/Whumpee/Whumper
Falling Through Ice
Fatigue/Exhaustion
Fever
Fibromyalgia (Chronic Pain)
Field medicine
Fighting (while injured)
Financial difficulty faced + how whumper might take advantage of that + how caretaker handles everything (well/badly)
Finding your loved one dead without explanation but thinking they’re still alive.
Fireman's carry
Flare ups
Flashbacks
Flinching away
Flu
Food Poisoning
Forced to... (Break out, Choose, Hurt, Kneel, Scream, Watch)
Forehead kisses
Forgotten by team
Foul-tasting medicine
Found family
Found unconscious
Fracture (Arm, Hyoid bone etc)
Freezing / cold whump
Friendly Fire
Frostbite
G
Gagged/Muzzled
Gangrene infection
Gaslighting
Gas (noxious, poisonous etc)
Gastritis
Glass (shards, debris etc)
Grief
Gunshot Wound
H
Hair Pulling/Cutting/Matting/Stroking
Hallucinations
Hanahaki
Handcuffs
Handgag
Hard ground
Haunted
Hay Fever
Head injuries/concussion
Head trauma
Headache/Migraine
Heart Palpitations
Heartburn
Heat Exhaustion
Heatstroke
Heavy metal poisoning
Held at gunpoint/knifepoint/weapon point
Hematohidrosis (Sweating blood)
Hemophilia/Hematophilia (Blood unable to clot)
Haemothorax
Hernia
Hidden Illness/Injury/Scar/Medical Issues
Hiding
High Blood Pressure
High Fever (like dangerously high)
High Pain Tolerence
Hit by a car
Home Sickness
Hospital Codes
Hostage Situation
House burnt down
Huddling for Warmth
Human Shield
Human Weapon
Hunger
Hungover
Hunted for Sport
Hurt no comfort
Hyperalgesia,
Hypermobility
Hyperventilating
Hypo/Hyperthermia
Hypo/Hyperthyroidism
Hypoglycemia
Hypotension/ Hypertension
Hypoxia
TAG LIST:
Thank you very much to the following people for submitting ideas! (I apologise if some tags did not work, I'm not sure why tumblrs not letting me tag you!)
@I-eat-worlds | @greygullhaven | @letsgowhump | @cyberwhumper @firapolemos05 | @originaldeerhottub | @whumpilicious | @drawing-dinos82 | @carenrose | @stellarinuscronicles | @gottheseasonalblues | @marvelflame2010 | @sowhumpful | @avamcu | @courtneygacha | @lordofthewhumps | @autismmydearwatson | @kuddelmuddell | @the-most-handsome-ginger | @whirls-and-swirls | @painsandconfusion
#whump#a-z trope list#prompts#a to h#long post#extra long post#depression tw#anxiety tw#chronic illness mention#gun tw#angst#hurt#injury#illness#cancer tw#illness tw#alcohol tw#violence tw#medical tw
201 notes
·
View notes
Text
we'll meet again.
summary. ""I'm sure we'll meet again, but for now… goodbye, [Name].""
trigger & content warnings. major character death (the reader), mild blood.
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. angst, hurt/no comfort. muichiro tokito & hashira mentor!reader. 1.1k words. they/them pronouns for reader.
author's thoughts. this is an expansion of these headcanons. while this oneshot could be read as a standalone, it makes slightly more sense with the background context. also i think this oneshot only really makes sense if youve read the demon slayer manga; you wont understand the fight scene if you havent. anyway i have NO excuse for this. im so sorry (no im not LMAO)
"Tokito, move!"
Perhaps it was the urgency in their tone, or perhaps it was the evident desire to protect a young life that they deemed unsettlingly evanescent, yet Muichiro obeyed with no hesitation. Perhaps it was simply the trust and respect he held for his mentor.
Regardless, he moved.
The second he released the hilt of his blade, they clasped it, pushing the boy further away with all their might. Though they may have missed it, Muichiro grimaced from the utter force they exerted against his core and stumbled slightly when attempting to regain his balance.
...
He hadn't sparred with them in quite a long time. He'd forgotten the kind of power that they could demonstrate.
Though the blade had been red before when clutched in the Mist Hashira's hand, it was blazing now, making the Upper Moon suck in a sharp, painful breath. Their glare was steely enough to make even the bravest man falter.
If Kokushibo was not a demon, perhaps even he would have wavered.
"You will not harm my Tsuguko."
Lightning struck their core, tearing and searing the seams of their flesh to reach its sharp nails into their delicate innards. They hardly processed the gaping gash across their torso until the pain came in seconds later, making the floor sway beneath their feet and their vision spin. A glare that was once as sharp as their nichirin blade was now unfocused and hazy.
Their legs gave out from underneath them.
Through the pounding of their heart in their ears, they heard a distant, faint cry of their name.
A moment passed, then another.
Tender fingers brushed hair that'd stuck to their sweaty, pale face away, caressing their cheek with a trembling hand. "...[Name]-nee?"
"Ah..." they laughed, choking up a bit of blood in the process, before wincing at the sharp pain that struck their abdomen after. "That's the first time you've called me anything other than [Name]-sama, Mui-kun. It's cute. You should've done it a long time ago."
"H— wait, hold on, just stay awake a little longer," he urged, hands scrambling to peel away at some of the fabric sticking to their flesh. The boy's pupils were blown wide with panic; that much they could tell, despite their blood-loss induced dilirium. "We'll close your wounds, just... I need..."
"Hey..." they called weakly, gently pushing his hands away from their wound with what little strength they had left. "Tokito."
"I just, I- I need to start a fire. We'll cauterize them—"
"Tokito-kun."
"—It'll be okay."
"Mui-kun, please, just stop already! Listen to me!"
Glossy tears spilled over at the sheer breathless desperation in their voice. Never once had their voice raised in his direction, and perhaps it was a mix of the utter overwhelm of the situation and the shock of hearing them yell (at him, specifically) that pushed him over the edge.
In the end, Muichiro was still only a child.
Their chest rose up and down in heavy puffs as they tried to catch their breath, squeezing their eyes shut as the room spun.
"[Name]-nee... don't go yet. Please, please... not you too..."
"Shh. I'm still here. Just, ah... just give me your hands. I'll throw up if I open my eyes."
He was quick in clasping their chilled hands between his own, sharing his body heat and offering what little comfort he possibly could to both himself and his rapidly declining mentor. A deep weight settled in his gut at the realization that he wasn't just in some horrible nightmare—that, once again, someone he adored and loved wholeheartedly was leaving him alone.
To them, the warmth he radiated was indeed a comforting reassurance. He was warm. Alive.
"Listen to me. You've gotta kill Muzan for me. This isn't fixable. This couldve been you, laying here in your own blood, you know? You're too young to die here. Too many kids have given their lives already. You had better not die, you hear me? I'll give you hell if you do."
When he laid down beside them, shedding blistering tears on their shoulder, they caressed his head lovingly with the last of their strength.
"You had better not die, Muichiro."
— flower of the universe !! 🌸
"Hello! It's nice to meet you. I am [Surname] [Name], the Demon Slayer Corps' Cloud Hashira, and I'll be your mentor from here on out."
The warmth with which they regarded him was... foreign. Despite the nervous smile tugging at their lips, their welcoming warmth was oh-so evident. How could one who had seen so much bloodshed still have eyes that shone comparably to stars?
Muichiro blinked—once, twice.
"Okay."
Awkward silence descended for a brief moment as the boy fidgeted slightly with the bandages wrapped around his body.
"Oh, uh, right," they stammered, plucking amaranth from their hair. Their hand raised with purposeful delicacy so that, had he so desired, he could withdraw from their gentle touch. He did not. His lack of movement prompted them to tuck the plant behind his ear. "Here."
"What's this for?"
"Well, I've never had a Tsuguko before, so I want us to have a good relationship. Some of the other Hashira say gift-giving is a good way to build rapport. Also, I've been thinking about your name."
"My... name?"
"Yes. The 'mu' in your given name—it's the same as the 'mu' in 'mugen,' isn't it? The 'mu' in Muichiro is the 'mu' in 'mugen.' I like to think so, at least. Amaranth is a symbol of immortality in some countries. It's... it's the closest I could get to infinity," they laughed. "I thought about bringing a lotus instead. Maybe I should have? A lotus would've looked a little nicer. Hmm..."
The 'mu' in Muichiro is the 'mu' in 'mugen.'
Where...
Where had he heard that before?
"You wanted to bring me a lotus that day, [Name]-nee. It was because they symbolise eternity, right?" Muichiro mused in a quiet whisper that would inevitably be lost to the breeze. No-one else was meant to hear, anyway. His words were for no-one but his late mentor; that much was blatantly obvious. "I didn't think you'd ever join this graveyard."
The rows of graves behind Oyakata-sama's seemed endless, really. Day after day they used to get bigger and bigger as Demon Slayers fell. It was somehow comforting to Muichiro that no-one would ever have to join said rows ever again.
"You know, lotuses also symbolise rebirth. That's why I brought you one."
With delicacy so obviously mimicing that which they had once displayed towards him, he laid the flower on their grave, careful not to disturb the dirt too much.
"I'm sure we'll meet again, but for now... goodbye, [Name]."
please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot! for clarity's sake, the line "The 'mu' in Muichiro is the 'mu' in 'mugen'" is a reference to what muichiro's brother said before he died.
#aphelion writes 🌸#: [ the cloud hashira! 🌸 ]#platonic muichiro x reader#platonic demon slayer#platonic demon slayer x reader#platonic kny x reader#kny x reader#demon slayer x reader#kimetsu no yaiba x reader#muichiro tokito x reader#tokito muichiro x reader#muichiro x reader
718 notes
·
View notes
Text
safety net
pairing : force healer! jedi x anakin skywalker
word count : 1.2 k
masterlist | part two
summary
finding safety in a world deranged by war became a distant dream until your childhood friend, anakin skywalker, comes back to your life.
tags : fluff, comfort, friends-to-lovers.
warnings : mentions of surgical procedure/blood.
notes
happy holidays to everyone that celebrates !
as a present, here's some warm fluff that's been sitting in the drafts i wanna share with y'all 🤍
It began when Obi-Wan Kenobi, asked you to heal Anakin Skywalker.
The Jedi Master felt as though it was his responsibility to find the most competent healer in the galaxy after his Padawan lost an arm in a fight against Count Dooku.
And you didn't hesitate taking in the job the Jedi Council has entrusted you with. It was the most flattering, especially since you will be in charge of the care of their 'chosen one'.
You had just finished your apprenticeship in force healing, so you were determined not to let down the Council and the honor they bestowed.
"[Name]? You've grown" Anakin blinks when he realizes it was you. By the way he was smiling ear-to-ear, you realize he had been languid from the blood loss.
You were younglings together. The Jedi Masters had not fallen short in reminding Anakin that he was supposed to be the chosen one. That title, was not only known to him, but to all else.
It isolated him. As you had been. Your natural connection to healing made the Masters want to develop your skills outside the standard curricula.
Anakin was the one you sat with when no one wanted to. It was you and Anakin until you had to leave to pursue learning about healing through other force wielders.
"Yes, Anakin, I'm in charge of your care now" You answered, raising the syringe to his sight so he'd anticipate the injection.
"If it takes losing an arm to have you back, I'd have done it again" Anakin says thru half-lidded eyes.
The sedative was quickly taking its effect and you couldn't dare to look up at Obi-Wan.
"Well, at least one of us is happy about this" You answered.
Remembering your bedside manners, you proceeded with the protocol.
Send the patient to sleep.
Don't appear doubtful.
Don't make promises.
"Is there a color you'd want for your new arm?" You forced your voice to remain calm as you redirect his attention to the question. Both your hands are applying pressure on his severed arm to reduce the blood spilling.
Obi-Wan was pale with worry. You nodded to him hoping that he'd be reassured his apprentice would be fine. He looked like he'd pass out before Anakin.
Anakin leans back on the stretcher, the thought keeping him focused and away from the pain that was being dulled by the sedative.
"Definitely not gold— C3PO will never let it go" His nose scrunched, grimacing at the thought.
You let out a chuckle at his comment. "Alright, not gold"
The Med-Droid had finished preparing the materials and when you turn back your focus to the Jedi, he was already asleep.
You worked efficiently. Time was of paramount importance. The Jedi teachings hypothesized on midi-chlorians being stored in the blood, so you prioritized stopping the bleeding.
The lightsaber cut cauterized the tissues and vessels, making his blood coagulate and turn toxic. To your advantage, you were able to utilize both medical practice and force healing to fully save the nerves.
You can still make him a bionic arm that would be sensate.
By the time you were finished, the design you sent to bioengineering came. A silver arm with hints of red.
It still looked more skeletal than realistic. But that's only because you wanted to improve on it later. This was only a prototype.
Your hand coddles his cheek— this was the fastest way to sense how he'd been feeling.
His signature appears to you as a series of words.
Conflicted. In a state of stasis. Scared.
You took your hand back, deciding not to pry more into what he was keeping.
Hours flew and you found yourself in a loop debating whether electric signals in the nerves could fire using zillo skin. It would be the toughest replacement for skin, but it's not capable of transmitting signals for sensation.
Your mind was beginning to numb from the mental exhaustion. Your curious gaze lands on Anakin's bare torso. He was still unconscious.
You would have done your research in your quarters, but you wanted to be here when he wakes.
Your mind started drifting and you followed his breathing.
How is it possible for his skin to hug so tight against his muscles?
You blinked, startled by the thought that crossed your mind. Perhaps it was time to sleep...
"Eyes are up here" Anakin says in a singsong voice.
You look up through your lashes, cheeks firing up from the embarrassment.
He chuckles, then his attention lands on his bionic arm.
"How are you feeling?" You stood up, grabbing the charts and taking note of his vital signs displayed on the monitors. You pressed on the recline and Anakin sits up along with the bed.
"Mmmhungry?" He rubs his eye.
"I'll have someone bring something" You smiled. "Can I?" You asked before touching his bionic arm.
He nods and you continued. "Can you open your fist?" You asked, holding the bionic arm, guiding gently.
Anakin's eyebrows furrowed in focus. The arm abruptly closes. "What happened?"
"That's fine, your mind is adapting to sending nerve signals to the synthetic ones." You explained, your fingers unclenching his fist.
Anakin tries again and his fingers opens up in a more controlled manner.
You let out a breath of relief when you realized you have managed to save all those tiny nerves.
"Alright, now tell me how much you can feel" You instructed, running the tip of your pointer finger against his palm, you look up to see him already looking at you.
Focus.
Anakin was not at all subtle. It made butterflies run down your stomach.
"I can feel you, but I can't tell how much pressure your applying" He answers.
You nodded, noting it down.
Now, you need to test the receptors for heat.
Oh, by the force, why must he look at me like that.
You centered yourself on the task in front. You pressed the back of your hand against his palm. "And how does my skin feel? Can you tell if it's warm?"
Your heart was thundering inside your ribs, you were kind of scared that Anakin will hear how nervous he was making you feel.
Anakin tilts his chin, as if he was really trying to feel. "No, I can't feel the heat" He clasps his fingers against your palm as if testing more.
Of course, you couldn't have healed everything. "Alright" You withdrew.
"This is only a prototype, I'll improve its design after we do some more tests" You stood up, trying to establish some space between you and your old friend.
Anakin leans back after noting your action. "Thank you, [Name]" He kept his eyes fixed on you, as if he was still waking up from a dream.
You managed a smile. "I got you"
His eyes lingered on yours, you could not find it in yourself to look away.
A soft knock on the door snapped you awake.
"Well, don't you look well" Obi Wan comments with a wide smile
"Something's different" He crosses his arms, as if trying to figure out what it was that changed.
"Dooku really got you with that scar" Obi Wan nods his head as he waves a hand tracing the scar on his apprentice's face.
You couldn't hold back a laugh in surprise.
"I lost an arm" Anakin squeezes his eyes close.
"Come, no reason for me to be rude now." Obi-Wan winks at you. "But since you brought it up, how are you feeling?" He steps forward to Anakin's bed.
You leave the two to catch up on their own.
of course i'd seperate the angst on the next part so if you want more of that, head to the next one haha!
#anakin (ciella's ver)#anakin skywalker#star wars#sw#anakin x reader#anakin x you#star wars anakin#anakin#anakin fanfiction#anakin skywalker fanfiction#anakin star wars#anakin fluff#anakin imagine#anakin skywalker fic#anakin skywalker x you#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker imagine
231 notes
·
View notes
Note
Record of Ragnarok x Jedi reader
The reader is a human but is not from Earth. They were chosen to be a fighter in Ragnarok. The gods/humans might be surprised that the reader is a human who is from outer space. I think that Nikolai is going to be excited about learning about other existences. I'm also wondering could see the force that surrounds the reader.
-Heimdall couldn’t help but grin, standing before the crowds as he spoke, hyping up the next fighter for humanity, you.
-He lifted his Gjallarhorn to his mouth, “For humanity- their greatest achievement is being able to go to space, exploring beyond the world that the gods created for them! Our next opponent is from such a place- coming from the very distance future from another planet, far, far away!”
-The stadium was in shock, hearing of such an opponent, Nikola was being held by the back of his pants by Brunnhilde after he tried to rush, wanting to speak to you to ask you everything!
-You looked rather… simple, to put it bluntly, when you walked out into the stadium, wearing a long F/C robe with the hood up. There was no weapon, that they could see, on your person, and you looked unassuming. You looked nothing like a warrior!!
-You were soft spoken and respectful to your opponent who was the opposite, acting cocky, saying that you were weak and that this would be an easy fight.
-You lowered your hood before your cloak fell to the ground at your feet, revealing your training gear, simple in design, mostly neutral tones with a F/C colored belt and in your hand you held a strange tool, it looks almost like the hilt of a sword, but there was no blade.
-Your opponent was quick to charge at you, making you leap back as you dodged his fist, the ground crumbling under his fist.
-He grabbed handfuls of the broken arena and threw them at you, fighting dirty which would have led to cries of outrage, had everyone not been stunned into silence.
-You held your hand out in front of you, the rocks frozen in midair before you dropped them, not willing to stoop to your opponent’s level.
-You activated your lightsaber, which illuminated brightly in a beam of bright purple light. Nikola instantly fainted from excitement which Brunnhilde rolled her eyes at, but at least now her hand could have a break, for a moment.
-You charged and easily sliced through your opponent’s weapon, a large axe, making many call out that your weapon was like a laser. You easily dodged his blows, showing your combat expertise, not even using your weapon on him.
-Many people screamed when you stabbed him suddenly, feeling nothing but anger and darkness in his heart, but there was no blood, the lightsaber immediately cauterizing where the wound would have been.
-You immediately closed the lightsaber and used the force to call your cloak to you, holding it over your shoulders as you humbling accepted the cheers of the crowd. You were so powerful but so humble, it was so refreshing.
-You were immediately run down by Nikola who threw you over his shoulder and ran to his lab, rapid firing questions at you, wanting to know everything from where you were from to your lightsaber and the force.
-Nikola had to play ‘run away and keep Y/N away from Brunnhilde so he could keep asking questions for what felt like hours, but you weren’t bothered, finding his curiosity endearing.
187 notes
·
View notes
Text
Soulmates
pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader
summary: Y/N hasn’t met her soulmate; she knows because she can’t see color. It doesn’t stop her from wondering how Mando is supposed to meet his when he can’t lock eyes with anyone. (aka you can’t see color until you lock eyes with your soulmate)
word count: 2531
warnings: so much fluff except for S2 finale stuff
notes: happy birthday to pedro!! i thought this would be a nice birthday treat :)
masterlist
Y/N wasn't used to the weather on this cold planet. She wanted to go back to Tatooine, no matter how dry it was. She would deal with the peeling skin if it meant her back would stop aching from shaking in the cold. Her teeth chattered against each other, and she cursed Din for not having a central heating system.
Not that it would help with the massive hole in the wall that wasn't being covered very well by the tarp Din had thrown up quickly.
"We're not getting out of here tonight." Din said, watching Y/N hug her legs to her body tightly. Her head was buried in her thighs, and he could tell she was shaking. It was quiet in the hull, save the kid making funny sounds and banging his hands on things as he crawled around. She tried to keep the jealous thoughts out of her mind when she heard the frog-lady clasp her eggs close. She had been far more fortunate than most of the galaxy, traveling far and wide and meeting thousands of people - but never her soulmate.
"Okay," Y/N whispered, teeth gritted so that the Mandalorian couldn't hear her chattering.
It didn't work very well.
"Go lay on the cot." Din nodded his head toward the small closet like resting area, even though Y/N wasn't looking. If she was honest with herself, she knew part of her just couldn't deal with the bleak grays that painted her vision right now. It would only make her feel self conscious for thinking about the fact that Din had never met his soulmate, and he probably never would with his Creed. She wasn't sure how it worked out for him, if he had to guess or if he thought he was just destined to be alone.
The thought made her heart break. Their unspoken connection, the fact that they shared the bed now instead of the off and on switch they did when Mando first took Y/N on the crew. She had never seen him take his helmet off, but she'd seen him in just his pants when that quarry had gone crazy with the blaster, catching him a couple times. She'd had to use the cauterizer to patch him up on his back, pretending not to notice the shudders of Din's shoulders when her hand brushed against his muscular back for a better angle.
"What?" She looked up, one of the blankets slipping down slightly at the movement. She had been so lost in thought she forgot what Din had said in the first place. Her lower back was aching from the shaking, but she couldn't stop herself.
"I'll go start fixing up the ship." He grunted as he pushed himself up.
"I thought you said-" She started, but Din cut her off.
"I can tell you're in pain." He said, watching her lips part and show off the shaking. "Get in the bed." He helped her up and guided her over to the closet-room, helping put the mountain of blankets on her. While she moved around to get comfortable, Din grabbed the Child to put in him in the hammock. His eyes caught on her still shaking form, and before he realized what he was doing he was taking off the beskar on his wrists and unwrapping the cape from his neck. He pulled back the blankets laying on Y/N's shivering form and put the cloak underneath all the blankets, knowing it was the warmest layer. He then closed the small door and walked back out into the cold.
She tried to force herself to sleep, hoping that she would somehow work up a sweat while being asleep and wake up warmer. She was lost in her thoughts as the door slid open, causing her to jump and pull the blankets close as she sat up to see the Mandalorian staring at her from the main hull of the Crest.
"You're l-letting the h-heat out!" She chattered, trying to keep the fact that she was shaking away from Din.
"I could hear you shaking from the cockpit." He told her, and maybe if it wasn't so knifing cold, her cheeks would heat up.
"You're l-lying." She accused, eyes widening as he put an unarmored knee onto the bed, leaning more into the small room.
"I don't lie." He told her, putting a warm hand on the exposed part of her shoulder. She jumped and turned to see Din free of all his armor except his helmet. "I'm going to need to be close to you so we can share body heat."
"Your helmet is literally freezing." Was the only thing she could say, heart racing at the thought of actually cuddling with Din. She couldn't stop herself from thinking about the ice that was beginning to fuse to his helmet, however, and she knew that neither of them would be warm if he didn't take it off.
"I'm going to bend the rules." He muttered, switching off the light and drenching them into darkness. She couldn't see anything, but after a moment she heard the hiss of his helmet and then the clink of it being set down.
It seemed like the unspoken thing was multiplied by ten in the dark room.
"What are you doing?" She whispered, squeezing her eyes closed and keeping her head turned away from him. He slid into the bed behind her, grabbing the blankets and pulling her close.
"Keeping you warm." He said, and she felt hot at the sound of his unmodulated voice.
"I thought you couldn't take your helmet off." She said, because she couldn't think of anything else to say.
"You're not shivering anymore." Din changed the subject, wrapping his arms loosely around her. She grabbed them, pulling him close to let him know that she was okay with this.
"Looks like your methods work." She whispered, letting him entwine his fingers with hers. Everything about this situation felt immensely intimate, had her heart racing with adrenaline.
"They usually do." He muttered softly, pulling her as close as he could, so close she could feel his breath against her neck. When they had slept in the same bed in the past, he always had his helmet on. The only time he didn't was when he ate, locking himself in the cockpit. This was new, and she still wasn't sure if this was against the rules.
She closed her eyes, finally warm enough to sleep, and tried not to think about it.
~
"I'll go with Mayfield." Y/N said, pausing the argument for a moment. Everyone looked at her, and for the first time she was glad she couldn't see Mando's expression; she was sure he was looking at her as if she was crazy.
"No, you will not." Din said, and Y/N raised her eyebrows.
"I'm not on any lists or whatever. I'm the only one here who won't set off any alarms." She told him.
"Not the only one." Mando told her, but she just looked at him incredulously.
"Oh, because they won't notice a Mandalorian coming onto their base." She turned, looking at the Empire vehicles slowly trucking along.
"You're not going without me." He told her, causing her to role her eyes at his over-protectiveness. She knew it was because he was hard on himself for leaving Grogu - he felt like he should have never left him alone, that it was his fault that Grogu was taken.
"They're never going to let the Mandalorian in." Y/N says annoyed.
"I'm not going as a Mandalorian." He said, watching everyone else looking at him confused.
"Unless your Creed has changed recently, you're not getting in with that helmet." Mayfield told Din, who just shrugged
"I'm going in," He said. "But I'm not showing my face." Y/N just frowned as she was confused.
"Then Y/N can't go. There's only two guards in each vehicle." Fennec said, but Y/N smirked.
"I have an idea," She said as her eyes widened. She turned toward Mando. "But you're not going to like it."
~
"You were right." Din said as he helped her out of the huge truck. He had taken down all the enemies without his weapons or armor, which was impressive.
"About?" She asked as she smiled up at him. She was trying to act like she wasn't looking for his eyes, the same way she always did. Except now, she was worried the dark panels weren't dark enough to block out his face.
"I hate this plan." He said, a hand on her lower back as he lead her through the Imperial base, nodding at the Troopers who were thanking him and Mayfield.
"Why do you think I didn't tell you until after we were on our way?" Y/N was wearing a borrowed dress from someone in the village, playing the part of a 'pleasure girl' - it was obvious why Din was pissed that she had come up with a plan of making herself a prostitute.
"We're almost done anyway." Y/N told him, feeling his hand curl around her waist and hold on tight when a couple of helmets didn't turn away quickly enough for his liking.
"It's right there. I'll be in and out." Mayfield said, walking into the small break area but walking right back out.
"What do you think you're doing?" Y/N asked, eyes wide as she realized Mayfield wasn't going to get the data for them. She needed to find Grogu, if not for herself, then for Din.
"I can't go in there. My commanding officer is in there." He explained, causing Y/N to be even more confused.
"So?" Din asked, sounding as annoyed as Y/N did.
"If he recognizes me, we're never getting out of here anyway. It's over, we're done." Mayfield said, but Y/N shook her head.
"Give it to me." She held out her hand, but Mando shook his head.
"If you go in there looking like that, it'll be even more suspicious. I'll do it." He turned to Mayfield, who was looking at him in shock.
"You have to show your face, Mando. To make sure you're not a droid." Mayfield informed them, but Din just held his hand out.
"Give me the stick." Y/N's heart raced as Din grabbed the stick from Mayfield, marching into the room and going straight to the machine in the corner.
"He's gonna cause a scene." Mayfield said, knowing an alarm would go off when the machine scanned a helmet and not a real face.
"He'll do something." Y/N told Mayfield, knowing that he was right. They watched as Din eventually did set off an alarm, and Y/N's heart raced. "Come on," She whispered, knowing that one move from Din and she would help him take out everyone in the room.
But then Din was taking off his helmet.
Y/N saw dark hair before she turned, seeing Mayfield lean around her to look at Din. Y/N slapped him, watching him look annoyed as he cradled his cheek.
"What are you thinking?" She whisper-screamed, annoyed that Din was in there breaking his Creed for Grogu when Mayfield couldn't even handle going in there himself.
"Come on," Mayfield grabbed her as they walked into the room.
"What are you doing?" She asked, eyes widening when she realized that Mayfield was dragging her into the the room.
"Just follow my lead." He whispered, Din pointedly not looking at Y/N as Mayfield spoke to the officer.
The whole time Din's helmet was off, Y/N made sure she wasn't looking at him. She was silent as she leaned against him - playing her role as a whore - as Mayfield talked about his brown eyes - so now she knew his eyes were brown, and that Mayfield had seen his soulmate. She still didn't look at his face, into his eyes, keeping her head down.
Y/N only made sure to pay attention to the signal to shoot, and in no time they took out everyone in room.
"You did what you had to do. I never saw your face." Mayfield said as he handed Din his helmet, eyes cast down.
"I actually never saw it." Y/N chuckled awkwardly, still not looking as Din slipped the helmet on and they began fighting more.
~
When they got back to Boba Fett's ship - sans Mayfield - Y/N couldn't look at Mando, even though he had his armor back on. She knew he wasn't looking at her either, but as soon as Fennec and Cara walked out of earshot he was speaking.
"You don't have to be here anymore." He said, his voice straight forward and even-toned. "The ship is gone, so your job is done." Y/N had forgotten that Mando had hired her as a mechanic, since the recent problems with the Razor Crest were problems she couldn't fix on her own with the few tools she had.
"I'm not leaving until we get the kid back." She said, head snapping up to be surprised that his helmet was pointed toward her. He was silent for a moment until he finally sighed.
"I know he meant a lot to you." He said, and Y/N nodded.
"He meant more to you. You meant a lot to him." She smiled comfortingly as she said it, but it was clear Din was having a moment.
"You didn't look at my face?" He asked after a while more of silence, and Y/N answered immediately.
"No. I saw your hair when you took off the helmet, but I turned before I could see anything else. And when I went in there, I made sure not to." She smiled, hoping this was making Mando feel better. "I only know your eyes are brown because Mayfield made that joke." She scoffed with a tight smile.
Mando didn't respond, and it was a strained ride back.
~
"He doesn't want to go." Din said, not wanting to let Grogu go. He'd had to say goodbye before when he thought the kid was going to go with Ahsoka, and he'd just saved the kid. He didn't want to give up Grogu.
"He wants permission." The Jedi said and Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes. She also didn't want to lose Grogu. She could barely hear what the Jedi was saying before she watched Din take off his helmet.
Y/N was staring at Din's hair once more, watching him say goodbye to Grogu. They all watched as the Jedi took Grogu with him, but Y/N's eyes ventured back to Din's helmetless head. She didn't have the chance to look away when he turned toward her, their eyes locking.
For a moment, nothing happened. Y/N's heart had just begun to sink when color erupted from Din's eyes and began spreading to everything, making her lightheaded. Everything was bright, and she didn't hesitate to run into Din's arms.
"It's okay." She whispered, hands running through his hair. He squeezed her tightly, his armor bruising her. She didn't care, however. She had her love in her arms.
Din was crying into her shoulder, not caring about the people around her who were watching.
"You're okay, Din." She told him, kissing his cheek and tasting the salt of his tears. "We'll be okay."
//
tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @roxaya
#din x reader#din djarin x reader#din djarin#the mandalorian#the mandalorian imagine#the mandalorian x reader#mando x reader#star wars
811 notes
·
View notes
Text
Darkness on Umbara Chp.1 (Rex x Reader)
Hey everyone! guess whose in too deep!? me! I've clung to these fictional copy-paste men so much, you can call me a fucking LEECH!
Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7.
Landing on Umbara
cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, reader insert, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK
This is very briefly proofread so I die like a man
Minors DNI, even if theres no smut
Umbara was dark. From what you gathered, it was extremely fucking dark.
You prepared your supplies with Kix. As medics, you both needed to double and triple check every pack, case and box.
Kix would be on the front. His expertise was more front line first-aid rather than your position behind the forces. He would keep the men alive long enough to get to your hands where you’d focus on the more intense medical care. While you would be armed to defend yourself, it was better if you stayed out of the line of direct fire.
Your safety and position were tied to the status you were given. As a natural born human in the GAR, your life was inherently seen as more important than the clones. This thought process was something you were vehemently against. You and your fellow soldiers were on equal ground. You’ve always tried to treat them with respect, kindness and patience.
On several occasions nat-borns would disrespect or belittle clones in your presence, which usually resulted in a verbal lashing from you. Much to the joy of your General Anakin and his padawan Ahsoka.
And the affection of a certain Captain Rex.
You peered up from looking over the medical supplies you were supposed to carry. Currently your secret lover was across the hangar meeting with the Jedi generals, ARC troopers and commander of the 212th.
Despite being in his helmet, you knew you caught his eye. Rex didn’t give anything away except a small movement of his hand. Something Fives didn’t miss, who gave you a small wave.
He knew of your relationship with Rex. So did Anakin. But other than those two, it was secret. All for his protection, as clones were forbidden from romantic partners.
There was a surge of energy in the hangar and you looked around. Your eyes met Kix’s before you nodded to him, “Showtime.” The first wave was loading up ready to get to Umbara’s surface.
“I’ll keep Rex safe until you touch down.” Your medic friend winked at you before he stood, got his helmet on and got to his transport.
Scratch that, Kix knew about you and the captain too.
Several of the gunships lifted, flying from the hangar down to the planet below. The first wave of troops, including ARF troopers, were being sent down to clear the field. From there, a second wave of back-up, your wave, would join them. Your command was temporary. All you had to do was get them to the ground before they took orders from Rex and Anakin.
You adjusted your gauntlet with the communicator on it. T-minus 5 minutes. Your fingers danced over your supplies, double-checking everything you had.
Bandages, tourniquets, laser cauterizers, laser scalpel, bacta, patches, emergency suture kits…
“Ready, doc?” A trooper, Ringo, took you out of your thoughts.
With a nod, you lifted your pack and stepped up onto the gunship, “Ready. Let’s load up.”
Others followed your orders and soon, you were in the sky above Umbara.
Despite the first wave’s efforts, chaos still reigned. Almost immediately your gunship was assaulted by artillery fire. A shot exploded next to you, shaking the entire air vehicle. A ship to the west of yours burst into an explosion of flames.
In response, your second hand shot up for stability. A trooper had their hand on your shoulder to help keep you steady. After a moment, the transport stabilized and you let go, stepping to the back where a crate of supplies waited.
“Dare, how close are we?” You chimed on your communicator. Hopefully you didn’t startle the pilot.
“Landing in 30, I can’t get to the landing site, so you’ll have to walk some to the staging area,” he responded.
“Play it safe,” You commanded, “Land where you can. And try not to crash, I like living and I'm sure the other men do too.” A couple of clones snickers in their helmets. Your little quip helped ease the atmosphere it seemed.
You prepared a speeder. The small vehicle had been modified to carry a patient and allow you to transport extra medical supplies. It was outfitted with some extra armor and protection as well, so in an emergency you could activate a rayshield at the cost of the vehicle's speed.
“Doc, landing in 10.”
“Good job.” You spoke into your communicator before getting on the speeder. You counted down in your head, and just as you got to 1, the doors opened.
The troopers unloaded, guns ready. Shots were fired, though it didn’t seem as concentrated. Explosions were going off, but at a relatively safe distance. Seemed the first wave did a better job than you originally thought. Your speeder got to the ground, and you made your way to the staging area with the rest of the men.
The battalion had established some trenches, allowing a brief moment of rest and preparation for everyone. You stopped right at the small medical area Kix had skillfully established. Already there were injured in the double digits. Without pause, you got to work.
“You nearly missed the party,” Kix snarked, handling a blaster burn on the thigh of a shiny.
“I’d call this fashionably late,” you quipped back, getting your hands on a different soldier. Blood was seeping from the bottom of his damaged helmet, staining his blue and white chestplate in red. Your mind kicked into training, “What's your name?” You asked, voicing a kinder tone.
The poor clone was clearly in agony, responding with a tremor to his words, “S-Stag.” He swallowed, trying to control his mental state.
These damn soldiers liked to pretend everything was fine.
“Alright Stag, I’m gonna remove your helmet.”
He didn’t argue when you pulled it off revealing the extent of the damage.
Severe blaster burn. Missing eye. Jaw visible. Shrapnel from the helmet had pierced his cheek and temple. Concussion possibly.
His remaining brown eye looked wildly at you. You recognized fear. terror.
So, you gave him a reassuring soft smile, “Not too bad, I’ve dealt with worse.” Your fingers quickly wrapped around an injector filled with painkillers, “Here, I’m gonna give you something to help with the pain.” Your words seemed to have a positive effect because he nodded and let you treat him.
You worked quickly and efficiently, stemming the bleeding and getting him stabilized. When you were finished, he had calmed down considerably. Once Stag was stable, you moved on to the next trooper.
By the fifth, you realized one of them couldn’t be saved.
He was a shiny. Barely off Kamino you guessed. The plastoid of his chest piece looked to be shattered and singed from a bolt to the chest. His breathing was shaky as he leaned against the dark trunk of a glowing tree.
“I need a trooper.” you called taking the soldier’s hand in your own. You learned quickly into the war that the clones always wanted to die with a brother near them. A reminder that they weren’t alone.
“I hope I’m good enough.”
That voice.
“Rex,” Your head turned, looking up at him. You wished you could smile, but you had to keep your excitement under a mask. Plus, the situation didn’t call for it.
His warm eyes were on yours as he pulled off his helmet and knelt. There was clear sadness, knowing that this was the end for one of his men. So the only thing he could do was offer comfort.
“Fyre.” The captain spoke softly, “You did well.” He put one armored hand on the dying man's shoulder.
Wordlessly, you gave Fyre a shot for the pain and held his hand, “Everything is alright now.” you whispered to him. This wasn’t uncommon, when you or Kix were too late to save someone.
At the beginning you would burn through supplies trying to save everyone, only to fail and lose them anyway. Over the course of the war, you knew to recognize when all you could do was ease their pain and let them slip away.
It was the grim reality of the war. You couldn’t save them all.
Fyre coughed and squeezed your hand. His eyes closed and the clone took his last breath.
“Damnit.” you swore, checking his pulse. You only felt stillness. He was gone.
Rex sighed, “You tried. So, thank you,” He stood and helped you stand. He couldn’t let his grief from the loss overwhelm him, “I wish you stayed on the ship.” The clone captain admitted, “I get the feeling Umbara is going to be brutal. More so than previous battles.”
“You can’t get rid of me so easily,” Your eyes quickly scanned around. No one seemed to be close enough or paying attention to the two of you, “My darling.” you added, interlocking your fingers.
Your lover looked around quickly before he responded quietly, “Mesh’la, be careful what you say.” Despite his warning, he made no move to pull away. In fact, he stepped closer, “For now, at least.”
Of course, you knew the two of you had to reign in your love and affection in front of others. On the battlefield he was the captain and you the field doctor. Trying to push those boundaries would stress him out. Afterall, if his romance with you got to Kamino, they’d call for a decommission. Something Anakin would never go for, but better safe than sorry.
However, he warmed to small touches and brief moments whenever the situation allowed.
Your lips had a small smile, “I’m glad you're not hurt.” you raised one palm to stroke the side of his helmet. The battle wasn’t even an hour in and already his armor was dirty.
“Promise me you’ll be careful.” Rex murmured, keeping his voice down, “Please, ner kar’ta.” He was being protective again. Normally the captain was better at prioritizing. He was the leader of the battalion first and your lover second. But right now he seemed…spooked. Were things getting bad already?
Umbara must be getting to him. After all this assault was much different than other battles.
“I’ll promise if you promise,” Your lips quickly pecked his visor. It was chaste and fast, so no one could see. Just a sweet kiss between the two of you.
He was about to respond when his communicator went off.
“General Skywalker,” Your lover pulled back and raised his wrist up.
“Come find me, I need the status of our men.” Anakin’s voice sounded on the other end, “and tell our good doctor I said hello.”
You snorted.
“Right away, General.” the clone captain said, returning to his professionalism. He looked at you one more time before stepping away to find the jedi.
You sighed, “Back to work.” Without waiting a second, you found another injured soldier and began to treat him.
Your eyes glanced at the shadowy sky for a moment, unable to shake the pit in your stomach. It felt like something was deeply wrong.
The darkness on Umbara must already be getting to you too.
#reader insert#captain rex x reader#rex x reader#star wars x reader#the clone wars x reader#captain rex#clone trooper kix#umbara arc#clone wars 501st#tcw x you#tcw x reader#star wars the clone wars#Star Wars
56 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Marines Were Freed from a Secret Jail That Were Brutally Tortured by Feds"
The six U.S. Marines freed from a secret federal jail said their captors—a mix of FBI agents and private security—tortured them relentlessly, deprived them of food and water, and forced them to defecate in 5-gallon buckets that got emptied only once a week.
As reported previously, U.S. Special Forces on March 8 liberated six Marines the federal government held without trial at a clandestine warehouse-turned-prison in suburban Long Island, New York. The feds had arrested the six for protesting peacefully outside the Capitol on January 6, 2021. Once freed, they were taken to Womack Army Medical Center, Fort Bragg, and treated for maladies and injuries sustained in captivity. This included dehydration, lacerations, puncture wounds, and burns. Alas, one Marine’s wounds were so severe that he went into septic shock and had a leg amputated below the knee.
When debriefed at the hospital, he said their jailors kept them on permanent lockdown in separate cells spaced far enough apart so they couldn’t communicate with one another. He recounted the harrowing ordeal of his arrest. Feds, he said, arrested him off-post near Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, then handcuffed and blindfolded him before driving him to a nearby airport or airstrip. He knew this because the feds put him aboard a small turboprop aircraft. During his debrief, he said he could hear propellers spin up minutes before the plane took off. His abductors shackled his ankles and fastened him to a seat. He was punched in the face several times and called a “traitor” during what he guessed was a two-hour flight. When the plane landed, he was struck a few more times, then, still blindfolded, put in a vehicle and driven to an unknown destination. He tasted blood in his mouth from being pummeled so hard and often and eventually lost consciousness.
He awoke in a decrepit cell that smelled like shit, its only furnishings a urine-stained cot and a 5-gallon bucket in the center of the cell. The guards, he said, beat the living daylights out of him every day—sometimes more than once a day—coming at him three at a time so he couldn’t adequately defend himself. One Morning four guards burst into the cell and tied his arms and legs to the cot, spread eagle, and they took turns stabbing him in the right leg with rusty pieces of metal, then cauterizing the wounds with an iron to prevent exsanguination. He guessed he’d been stabbed 20 or 30 times while the guards taunted him, saying other Marines in custody would share his fate. He said one guard urinated on his open wounds prior to them being cauterized.
The other five Marines told comparable stories, though their wounds were far less severe. They said they were fed only twice a week—stale bread, a few ounces of water, or a red liquid that looked like Kool-Aid but with bugs floating in it. One said the guard tried to feed him mashed potatoes with congealed gravy and tiny glass shards.
“These Marines survived the unsurvivable,” our source said. “There are more service members still in federal custody, not to mention the hundreds of civilians who could be dealing with the same torture. This is how the Biden regime treats combat veterans, as criminals, as domestic terrorists. We are working to free more of them.”
I'm sure we will hear about other experiences like this as the turmoil continues to unravel in our country. These sick fμcks think they are untouchable. I got news for you the deplorables will get the last say.🤔 I did not get any information about the perpetrators involved in these horrendous acts. My gut feeling is, they were executed on the spot.
#pay attention#educate yourself#educate yourselves#reeducate yourself#knowledge is power#reeducate yourselves#think for yourself#think for yourselves#think about it#do your homework#do your research#do your own research#question everything#ask yourself questions#ask yourself
507 notes
·
View notes
Note
The smell of bile permeated the halls of an abandoned catacomb.
Soft croaking noises echo through the air, like the sound of laughter dragged to a drawl.
The silver-haired lord does not turn his head to check if his soldiers are still following him — the clattering of their boots on the damp floor is proof enough.
“Find your courage, men of Argent,” he mustered, little more than a whisper in the dark. “Fear only brings a second death.”
His conviction alone was ill-equipped to rally the rapidly fraying nerves of his hunting party, but, in truth, his words were more for his own sake than theirs.
Sharp, clicking sounds fill the darkness, like bones rattling against cracked and mossy stones. Eardrums buzzed, shaking in place, resonating violently to an imperceivable growl. The fire of the torches flare and reel back, as if to retreat from the terrors ahead.
Each breath is visible now — evidence of unholy magics. Evidence of his prey.
The shadows shift, heralding the arrival of something wicked.
Frost creeps across the walls towards the party.
A deathly quiet settles upon them. The void shifts as a sourceless wind extinguishes the torches completely. The only light that remained was the glow of a Blessed sword, as its white flames illuminate this nightmare in the dark. Spectre of an ancient creation.
“V’era!”
As his men fled in terror, King Uriel stood his ground, prepared for battle — ready to send this demon back to its Sunless home.
Though the men behind him had ran, the V'era before the Warrior-King gave no chase.
It knew. By either instinct, or some magical link, the creature knew of the Blessing.
'That or the fact the sword was glowing,' he thought to himself.
The king smiles at his attempt at lightheartedness. He still had control over his thoughts, and thus control over his body.
He could do this.
The cavern mists stuck to his cheeks, the humidity in the air making him sticky and uncomfortable. His eyes narrow before taking one step forward, keeping his stance balanced and ready to counter what may-
He unconsciously presses on his right toes to spring to the left side, turning his body so that the right leg could quickly plant itself once more.
Pricked needles press down his spine as a gush of wind blows where he had just been. That'd been too close.
Using the momentum of the evasion, he tightly grips the sword's handle as he swings the blade upward.
A slimy and heavy liquid splashes on his face as he feels the slightest bit of contact from the V'era's arm as it slices through. He hears the telltale sizzle of the beast's flesh wound as the Blessing cauterized the missing limb.
Nothing else could harm the V'era as effectively. To them, Her Blessings were holy fire. The bards and minstrels may call it what they will.
"Promised rest..."
The V'era backpedals a few steps, its black head now turning side to side as if feigning confusion.
"Eternal slumber..."
The descendant and inheritor to one of the most powerful bloodlines in existence walks forth, deeper into the dark with Her Blessing. The V'era was now visibly retreating from the glowing sword. Yes... he knew that normal men could never know nor feel how it was to have a V'era up against a wall. He knew what the Blessing in his hands was to these monsters...
"Death." He says calmly as he brings the sword down upon the V'era as it lunges forward.
Once again he feels the slightest of contact as his swing buries deep into its torso, but he pulls away as black claws slice the air near his face. A surprise headbutt tries to smash into his nose but the king ducks.
Panic spreads throughout his body as he feels the slippery ground beneath him threatening to topple him. It must be the V'era's black ichor tainting the ground.
Sensing his current disadvantage, King Uriel kicks away from his left foot to push his body inbetween the V'era's legs, using the kinetic force to let him glide underneath it as he unclasps the dagger on his thigh to stab the V'era's right knee joint.
Recovering his stance and once again facing his adversary, the king witnesses the stumbling V'era turning to face him. Footsteps can be heard running through the tunnels opposite of him.
The men who ran.
'Should I...?' he thinks to himself as he steps forward to the V'era. He waits a few seconds, allowing the creature to reorient itself. It was taking longer than he expected, long enough for him to worry that the V'era would strike once more.
But soon, the familiar orange haze of a torch is enough for him know his men had arrived.
youtube
The king swings widely in dramatic flourishes that screamed 'LOOK AT HOW COOL I AM!', and the men who witnessed their king's fury stared in awe. Some had contemplated joining, hurrying to the aid of their king, but the senior among them had placed a hand at the youngster's chest to stop him.
"
"
, he said.
The V'era, now knowing that their was an audience, gave its all. Using its one good arm left, it lumbered over with a downward swing to finally end this impetuous king once and for all. But nay, twas for naught as the great king grabbed the V'era's arm, stopping it dead.
He tiptoes around the V'era, and to the shock and surprise of everyone there, he rides the fucking thing.
He continues riding the V'era, guiding it to the entrance of the tunnel, riding it until it collapses from exhaustion. The king stands over the pitiful V'era, and utters
"You're alright girl," before thrusting his blade into the monster's breast.
Alrighty im done lmaooooo! First off, great job!!! I really loved this part the most for some reason, "The fire of the torches flare and reel back, as if to retreat from the terrors ahead."
You used some great word combos to paint a scene, and I think it shows how much talent you have. Consider writing for realsies!
52 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
alunasky-blog
Alunasky
doit1990-blog
Untitled
flame010
제목 없음
blushweddinggowns
clusterfuckcentral
blushweddinggowns
clusterfuckcentral